


I Want You Back

by Pseudthisyafucks (collettephinz)



Category: Holy Trinity (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Character Death, Depression, Dubious romantic consent, Felix and Jack won't die and neither will anyone in the present, Frey is Felix, Hallucinations, Huge attempt to be historically accurate, Identity Issues, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, No Signe (not cause i don't love her it just doesn't work in this), No cheating, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Senan is Seán, Thoughts of Suicide, Vikings, Violence, Witches, but not anyone you know, cause i love research yay, dd, except not really cause it's not just dreams, it's reincarnation you know people gotta die, just a whole mess, like a day of research, mark does his best to help, moments of disassociation, nothing racy just gotta put that there, slow decent into madness, tons of research in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-25 03:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 47,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/Pseudthisyafucks
Summary: "Everything I remember from these dreams are real, but it's not shit I’ve ever known. Mark, how is this possible?”“God, Felix, I have no idea,”Mark said, sounding helpless.“But it’s not like it’s hurting anyone, right? Even if these dreams are freakishly accurate, it’s not like they’re a bad thing.”Except Felix could barely sleep, and when he did, he woke up sick and even more tired than he’d been before. His hands would shake constantly no matter what he put in them. He suddenly couldn’t stomach looking Jack in the eye. Maybe these dreams weren’t hurting anyone else, but Felix was scared they were starting to hurt him. “Yeah, they're fine,” he agreed with a strangled tone.“They’re just dreams, Felix,”Mark assured him.“It’s all in your head.”





	1. Thin Floors

**Author's Note:**

> first off, **no, i am not abandoning When I'm Small.** a new album came out from this band i love and i basically came up with this whole story off of 10 particular tracks from that album. it was a fucking trip, man. and i couldn't get that story out of my head, so i had to write it before i could move on with anything else, sorry. my rib's, like, broken and yeah. writing this is a nice little pace change, especially since it's felix's POV. this thing's only gonna be 3 chapters long and roughly 30k so no worries, it's super short.
> 
> i know it kinda sucks to have the marzia/felix tag when it's gonna end jack/felix, but it just felt more true to the story i want to tell. i'll handle it as delicately as possible, just know that i fucking love Marzia more than anything and i firmly believe she is Felix's soulmate, not ifs, ands, or buts. there will be no cheating (that Felix can help).
> 
> thirdly, _i've spent almost literally 21 hours total researching all of this._ (it was so much fun) and even then, i know there will be a ton of historical inaccuracies. if you're a stickler for that, and you notice something's wrong, please let me know so i can change it. and feel free to give me some more information on what needs to be changed, cause i fucking love learning dude, it's the fucking best, fill me with that sweet juicy knowledge (also, let me know if there are formatting issues cause this thing is a mess of italics and i struggled)
> 
> and hey, if you give this a chance, i just wanna say thank you :) it's super fun to right, but having people actually read it makes things all the better
> 
> lastly, there's gonna be a glossary of terms for each chapter if it's necessary.
> 
> Glossary
> 
>  **Linn Dúachaill:** A viking settlement in Ireland, known as a long port, built in 841 AD at the same time as Dubh Linn (Dublin)  
>  **Goídelc:** (Gaelic) Gaelic  
>  **Norvegr:** (Norse) Norway  
>  **Hlœgi-ligr:** (Norse) laughable/humorous  
>  **Log-Kœnn:** (Norse) speaker/trusted speaker  
>  **Vikingr:** (Norse) Vikings  
>  **Gør bit svá vel:** (norse) please/I ask of you/I need of you  
>  **Hej Då:** (Swedish) Bye  
>  **Cailleach:** (Gaelic) witch  
>  **Duiblinn:** (Gaelic) early Dublin settlement  
>  **Doire:** (Gaelic) meaning oakwood or grace (settlements were named for the areas being settled— as this settlement is at the edge of an oakwood forest, I named it Doire)  
>  **Cuisle:** (Gaelic) vein (similar to use of the word “darling”)  
>  **Is breá liom tú:** (Gaelic) I love you  
>  **Ek ann þér:** (Norse) I love you
> 
> Verse  
>  **Tá a spiorad inár measc go fóill**  
>  his spirit abides with us still  
>  **An t-amadán sin de dheartháir agam a rinne é**  
>  that damn fool brother of mine did it  
>  **Glactar isteach san fhuil go héasca é**  
>  it’s easily absorbed in blood  
>  **Chuir sé an tine i gcuimhne dom**  
>  it brought back memories of the fire

_The rolling hills of this new land were cool beneath his steps, seeping through the leather and soothing the pains of his sore feet. Frey didn’t know where he was, and that was the point. After leaving the long port of_ Linn Dúachaill _with his purpose burning in his mind, being lost was his goal. The god_ Freyr _stood with him, as his namesake, and he knew he would find what he couldn’t name. The forest to his left, and the setting sun ahead, Frey walked with little direction._

_Once the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, he saw what had been hidden from him by the daylight. To the south, just at the edge of the ever-present woods, was light— several lights, all of them manmade. Frey turned his sights to this small town and trekked the last of the distance with more direction than he’d had the past wandering days._

_A crowd was gathered in the center of the borg, various smaller fires leading him to the large group. There was a man standing above all the others, shouting loudly in the language of the people of_ Ériu: “Goídelc.” _Frey spoke it well. He knew this man was calling people to arms, warning of a terrible threat from the North. Of bright eyes and the features of the fae, terrible and murderous. He was weaving a tale of horror, leaving the onlookers gasping in fear. Frey wanted to laugh. He also wanted to throw aside the hood and let these people see the very demon this man was describing. Four days walk from here were the warriors of_ Norvegr _. They meant no harm to the people of this small town yet._

 _“_ Hlœgi-ligr, _” he said to himself. Laughable. The tales this man was spinning were laughable._

_“What was that?” came a voice from beside him. Frey startled, not actually having intended to draw any attention to himself like he’d imagined. He quickly switched to the language of these people, knowing he needed to blend in as best he could._

_“I just thought these…” Frey faltered as he turned to look at the person who had addressed him, a stranger, in the midst of the_ log-kœnn’s _tales of terror. It was a man close to his own age, fair of skin, with deep, dark eyes and brown hair that shone gold in the firelight. There were very few people who had ever managed to catch Frey’s eye in this godless land, but this man…_

 _Frey’s mother, a revered_ Volva _, had spoken of love before. She had never told him it would hurt his heart in a matter of moments._

_“Who are you?” Frey asked the man before he could stop himself. The man laughed, the sound scraping at the edges of Frey’s mind, imbedding the sound deep within his memory. “I meant my question,” he insisted._

_“I’m sure you did,” the man said. “I simply found it funny that the stranger was asking me my name, as if he wasn’t the stranger himself.” The man had his arms crossed across his chest, but the smile he sent Frey was welcoming enough. As was the once over from those dark eyes, moving up and down Frey’s body. Frey knew he saw the sword at his side, partially hidden beneath his cloak, and the blue of his eyes. But the man didn’t seem alarmed. “I’m Senan,” he said. He reached out to grasp Frey’s lower arm in the custom greeting of Felix’s own people. So this man knew of the_ Vikingr _. Frey then understood Senan’s apathy to the color of his eyes. “What brings one of you here?”_

_“A man like you,” Frey said before he could stop the unwitting flirtation from falling from his lips. Well, may as well go for gone. “I’ve heard tales of the woodland wights of this land, of their beauty and mysterious nature. But I never expected to find one as striking as you.”_

_The laugh that came from Senan was more surprised than disgusted. “I’m sure you’ve seen your own share of the_ Fae _back home, haven’t you?” The man was rising to the challenge. Frey knew he could not stand down._

_“I must admit, I have seen those of magic,” Frey said. “But none as bewitching as you.”_

_Frey was sure the redness he saw to the man’s skin was a trick of the fire. “I don’t think you understand who you are trying to entice,” Senan began to warn._

_“I finish everything I start,” Frey told him firmly, meeting those dark eyes with stubbornness. “Who you think are should mean very little, especially if you know who I am.”_

_“You are the enemy that fool describes,” Senan said. “Yet you do not strike me as a violent man at all.” His gaze became hard. “Unless you are? Should I be afraid of you? Should I try to warn the others?”_

_“Do you think I am here to take your lives?” Frey countered._

_“I think you would not say the things you do if you intended to take my life.”_

_Frey smirked. “Then you have your answer.”_

_The hardness faded. A glint came to his eyes, and it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light this time. “Do you have a place to stay for the night? It is dark, after all. The woods can be dangerous.” Senan asked him, voice lowering. When Frey shook his head, he smiled impishly. “I may have just the place.”_

. . .

Felix woke with the same emptiness in his lungs as he’d had the past three times he’d had that same dream. He sat up in bed and hunched forward, focusing on breathing again. He always woke up feeling like he’d been holding his breath for the past few hours. His throat was dry and his palms were sweaty, fingers trembling. He was used to this. He was.

He looked to Marzia beside him and was grateful he hadn’t waken her up. But Edgar was awake and being a shit-head, making pug noises at him like it was time for breakfast or something, when it was only three AM. “Go back to sleep,” he told the dog, gently pushing Edgar over onto his side and throwing a blanket over his head. Felix got up and out of bed. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He never could after that dream.

It was hard for him to remember a lot of it, though he knew it never felt like a dream when he was in the midst of it. It was beyond surreal. Even though it was just a dream, he could still feel the remnants of the water in his shoes and the heat of those fires. He could still hear that idiot screaming in a language he didn’t understand when he was awake. Felix shook his head. It was best not to dwell on it. Especially not when the dream was really him flirting with a boy from some viking’s perspective. 

Felix tiptoed to the kitchen and started to make himself a really, really late dinner. He was probably more accurate in calling this breakfast. But his hands wouldn’t stop shaking until he did something to take his mind off the dream. It wasn’t as if he was afraid or anything, and it wasn’t like he had anything to be scared of in the first place. It was just a dream. He didn’t know who Senan was, and Felix probably wasn’t Norwegian. Like it even mattered. It was just a dream. 

“Just a dream,” he told himself as he pushed the scrambled eggs around the pan. They’d started as sunny-side up, but he’d royally fucked up the yolk of the first egg. Now he was going to settle for scrambled eggs, pepper, and toast. Did they have any bread? Hell, did they have any pepper? Felix sighed. “Just a dream.”

He heard the sounds of nails on the tile and sighed even louder when Edgar decided to sit down on the top of his feet. “What the fuck, dude,” Felix deadpanned, looking down at the dog. Edgar looked up at him with his big, dark eyes. Felix shuddered inexplicably and wiggled his toes. “Get off.” Edgar made another gross noise, then waddled away. Felix finished up the eggs and just dumped the whole pan into the dog’s bowl. His gratitude to his pet for getting off his feet. “You’ll probably like them more than I will, anyways.”

Edgar ate sloppily and Felix sat on the floor beside the dog’s bowl, just watching him. It felt better to watch living things after that dream. Like he was setting apart realities through observations of the modern world. He was sure Vikings never could have imagined feeding a small dog with a messed up face out of a bowl. There was absolutely nothing super manly about this, and Felix was sure all vikings were super manly. Even if they were, apparently, super gay. 

“Were gay vikings even a thing?” he asked Edgar. “I wonder if that was a thing.” After a moment’s pause, Felix crept back into the bedroom to grab his phone. He quickly researched the question and was surprised by what he found.

“Homosexuality was not regarded by the Viking peoples as being evil… rather, it was felt that a man who subjected himself to another in sexual affairs would do the same in other areas, being a follower rather than a leader,” he read aloud to himself. So they weren’t condemned or anything, just see in a more practical sense. 

“This lady at Fordham sounds like a piece of work,” he murmured, stilling telling himself he was talking to Edgar. “That viking I was was a weirdo.” The viking probably would’ve been criticized for who he was. Kinda sad, but at least he wasn’t being burned or stoned. Looked like they still used it as an insult, though. Felix grimaced and closed out of the tab. The lady said oral sex was, apparently, fine. Sounded like a high school rule. 

“Vikings were dumb,” he told Edgar. “Flirting with boys they just met.” Edgar looked up at him and blinked sluggishly. “Not as dumb as you, I guess,” he said. “Practically insulting to imply that.” Edgar continued to watch him with those eyes. So trusting. He huffed, then reached out to scratch behind Edgar’s ears. “And yet you’re dumb enough to stick around. Guess it’s the animal in you. You need someone to take care of you. To care _about_ you.” Edgar made the most pleased, disgusting noises at how much love he was getting. “You’re one of the lucky ones,” Felix said. “You’re alive.”

Okay, wow, this was a little too dark for him. Felix stood up and went to the living room to watch TV. He had a thing with his friends later tonight, and if he wasn’t going to sleep, he was, at least, going to keep himself from jumping off a fucking bridge. Edgar curled into his lap after he’d sat on the sofa. He pet the dog and ignored the noises. Companionship was best when the other person didn’t ask questions. 

“I can’t answer any questions,” Felix told Edgar unhappily. “Can’t say anything at all. Except that name.” The only word he could recall was a name. “Senan,” he said, mostly to himself. “Senan,” he repeated, tasting the vowels. “Senan.”

He liked the name. The Viking liked the man. Did Felix like the man too? It wasn’t Felix in the dream, but it was _Felix’s dream._ And he kept having it. That had to mean something more than most of the weird things he dreamed about.

“Stupid,” he told Edgar. “I’m being stupid.” Edgar made a pug noise that could only be affirmation. “I’m not gay,” he told Edgar. “No way could I ever be. Especially not for some weird dream boy.” He didn’t even know where Ériu was. “Some stupid fantasy land,” he said, to himself again. “Not like it’s real. Doesn’t matter.” He forced his eyes to the screen and kept petting Edgar to sooth his nerves.

“It was just a dream.”

. . .

Sitting at a table in the corner of the pub seventeen hours later, Felix still couldn’t shake off the dream. His fingers itched for more to do, and the stein in his hands was too cold. He kept feeling grass beneath his shoes, even as he walked on asphalt. Reoccurring dreams had never bothered him like this before. He wanted Edgar back in his lap, and that alone was a testament to how messed up his head was right now. Felix took a swig of his beer. Alcohol would help. Alcohol always helped.

Brad slapped the table and loudly announced himself, then disappeared as quickly as he’d come to get a drink without giving Felix a chance to say hello. Then Emma was here, which was dumb, because this was a guy’s night, then someone lit up the fireplace in the back of the pub, and Felix suddenly lost time. 

_He watched the fire shudder on the dark wood of the house he was inside, breathed shakily as the soft skin of another body pressed against his back with wool caressing his front. A hot gust of breath brushed warmed his ear and he let out an embarrassing noise, fumbled out “_ gør bit svá vel. _”_

_A voice said his name, and he looked up to see Senan._

Seán. 

Felix looked up and saw Seán. But it was Senan? And Seán. This was the same person as the man in his dream, Felix knew that now, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Except it couldn’t be, right? Because Seán didn't live in a wooden house, didn’t have unruly hair, and he didn’t speak Gaelic. This was just, this was just Jack. Not Senan.

“Ye’ look like ye’ got hit by a bus.”

Felix’s hand was shaking around his stein. He suddenly really wanted Edgar. Felix put the glass to his lips and drank as much as he could without choking. Jack watched him with an incredulous expression. When Felix actually downed the entire glass in one go, the incredulity became concern. “Uh…”

“I’m going home,” Felix said. “Tell the guys I’m sick.” A blatant lie. “ _Hej då_ , Senan,” he said one his way out of the pub as fucking fast as possible. He only could’ve left faster if he’d let himself run. 

“Who the fuck is Senan?!” Jack shouted after him, but Felix was already gone by the time the question registered. Another tremble ran through his spine. He hadn’t meant to say that name, but it couldn't be helped. He was sleep deprived, that was all. He just needed to go to bed early and get some rest. Everyone could have plenty of fun without him. 

_Seán stared at Felix through the firelight, talking about witches and a coming war with blue eyed fairies that reminded him of Felix._

He took some pills that he didn’t like taking and went to bed, ignoring all the messages on his phone.

. . .

_“I’ve never seen trees like these before,” Frey said, running his fingertips lovingly down the bark of the oak beside him. “Back home, we have plenty of trees, of course, but none like these.” None of these trees twisted and arched in the same way. He couldn’t read these woods like he could back home. There were no runes present in the branches, no words whispered from the gods. Just trees, stretching into the sky._

_“What makes this place so different?” Senan asked him as he walked a few steps ahead. While Frey stood out amongst these trees, Senan twisted and moved with them. It was what Frey expected of a_ Cailleach _. A feminine name for a very masculine being. Frey wondered if his mother would warn him away from the he-witch, or bask in delight over Frey falling for one of her own kind. “They’re just trees.”_

_“They do not speak to me like the trees back home,” Frey told him. “They make me feel…” Lost. A little out of place. Like the woods weren’t welcoming of him, and stubbornly refused to let themselves be read. “I see no runes,” he said instead,_

_“Runes?” Senan repeated, turning lazily on a heel, hypnotized by the branches overhead. Frey watch Senan’s body twist and wondered if he was being put under a spell. He reached out and latched onto Senan, digging calloused fingertips into the soft flesh of Senan’s hips. The smaller man smiled roguishly up at him. “Like Ogham? Teach me your runes, and maybe I’ll teach you how to read these trees.”_

_Frey laughed softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to Senan’s forehead. The man beneath him finally stilled, letting himself be held without complaint. Frey traced two lines into the flesh of Senan’s hips._

_“Lesson one,” he said in a low rumble. “_ Gebo _— a partnership. A gift.” He looked into Senan’s dark eyes and felt like he was drowning. “Find this mark in the trees,” he murmured. “And know that I am always at your side.”_

_His breath caught in his lungs as Senan surged upwards to seal their lips together._

. . .

Felix awoke with his heart in his chest and empty lungs again. He felt disorientated and nauseous. The floor swam in his eyes, and he splayed his hand out against the cool wood. Only then did he realize he was on the floor. Felix looked up at the bed, trying to remember how he’d fallen, when another wave of dizziness washed over him. His mouth tasted like stomach acid. He scrambled to the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as he could. He flicked on the bathroom light and readied himself to vomit.

Except, once the light hit his eyes, he wasn’t sick any longer. His lungs heaved and took in air like he’d been suffocating, but the sickness was gone and his head felt fine. There was nothing wrong, aside from the usual tremble in his hands. Felix slumped against the wall and stared up into the bright light above the bathroom mirror. 

He’d never had _that_ dream before. And worse, it felt more real than the first. He couldn’t wrap his mind around Senan and the viking, but he knew that it was becoming more than a reoccurring dream. It was almost like some story his mind wanted him to write down so he could create the next best selling novel. Felix snorted at the thought. Like he could write anything good enough to last. 

Still— Senan was something that Felix couldn’t describe and couldn’t forget. Now that he knew Senan was a mirror image of Seán, it seemed almost like a sick joke his own brain was playing on him. 

Why would he keep having dreams about his friend, especially dreams as weirdly intimate as these? Felix would completely understand if they were sex dreams. He’d had more than his fair share of random dreams about various friends. It wasn’t abnormal, and it wasn’t weird; people often dreamed about their friends like that and it never meant a damn thing. But this weird fucking LARP session with Seán going by some different name and Felix taking on the role of a Norwegian viking just didn’t add up. Felix knew very little about the details of his heritage. And he was almost positive Ériu was a made up place. 

Maybe he was dreaming about Seán because he missed the guy. Seán had just gotten back from two tours in a row, and it had been weeks since Felix had seen his favorite Irishman. Seeing Seán again had been the entire point of last night, but Felix had effectively ruined that by freaking out over a fireplace. Maybe Felix kept seeing Senan as Seán because he’d just missed the guy while he was away. And while Felix wasn’t exactly a historian, he was Swedish. Maybe he’d picked up that rune from some museum trip back in his schooldays.

None of that explained the kissing, though. Because again, if it had just been sex? That was normal, that was fine, that was biology. But Felix wasn’t sleeping with Senan in the dreams, he was kissing him. He was following him into the woods and holding onto his hips. He was romanticizing Senan in the firelight and talking about love at first sight. That wasn’t something Felix dreamed about, especially not with Seán. 

And why wasn’t Seán just Seán? Why was it Senan? What did that even mean? 

Felix sat up in a rush, going on his knees to reach the top of the counter and scrambled for one of Marzia’s eyeliner pens. He found a purple one and scribbled the name “Senan” on his inner arm. He wasn’t sure how he’d known to spell the name that way, but he knew it was correct. Then, as an afterthought, he wrote down “Ériu.” Just in case he hadn’t made it up.

There was a snuffle at the door, then the padding of feet. “Felix?” came Marzia’s tired, yet sweet voice through the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Felix said. He grimaced at how horrible his voice sounded— like he’d been eating sandpaper. “Yeah, I’m good,” he said a little more forcefully, clearing his throat of the scratchiness. “Just feel a little sick. I’ll be back soon.”

“Is this why you came home early last night?”

Felix had hoped she wouldn’t notice. He hoped no one had texted her about it, either. Felix didn’t have any sort of answers right now, and he didn’t want to lie. “Yeah,” he relented, because in a way, he’d left for the same reason he had been sick. “I’m sure it’s just a cold or something.”

“You want some soup?” she asked. “You didn’t eat yesterday’s dinner.”

“I’m okay, really,” he insisted. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, regardless. He wished he could actually give her something, but he was too wrapped up in this giant question mark plastered in his brain. He wanted to just push those thoughts aside, but the dream had suddenly changed. He couldn’t explain this new dream, and he couldn’t explain what had caused the change in the first place. “I’ll go back to bed in a second.”

There was silence, then a small noise of affirmation before Marzia shuffled back into bed. Guilt lingered beneath the shakiness. At least he wasn’t about to vomit anymore. Felix’s eyes were drawn to the words written on his arm. He was supposed to see PJ tomorrow and record a video and meet with Brad about some stupid merch thing, but Felix decided that he’d have to put one of those things aside for at least an hour so he could figure out what was happening in his head.

. . .

His hands were still shaking when he made the phone call. He hadn’t actually talked to Mark since Mark had declared a need for a hiatus— Felix was all about respecting those much needed vacays. But Mark also knew the most about anxiety and dreams and dumb bullshit. Felix had google open, ready to do some sweet researching while hopefully talking through his shit with Mark. He’d send the guy something nice later as thanks. 

_“He~ello?”_

“Dude, hey,” Felix said. “Thanks for picking up. I, uh… how’s the break?”

 _“Pretty great,”_ Mark said, sounding like he was moving around. _“Gonna buy myself a new car! It’s gonna be great, I’m super excited. Chica’s excited too, right Chica? Right girl?”_ As Mark’s voice grew in pitch, Felix subconsciously reached down to pet the dog in his own lap. Edgar was asleep for once, and not struggling. _“Gotta say, though, I definitely wasn’t expecting to hear from you. How are things? Not too stressed, right? You said you were feeling good.”_

Felix snorted. “You watched that? You could just, like, text me.”

_“But then I wouldn’t get to see that lovely face of yours.”_

“Wow, flirting with me? You are in a good mood.”

_“And you calling me? Definitely a red flag.”_

“I can’t call my friend every once in a while?”

_“Not after you promised you’d do your best to not bother me until I said I was ready.”_

Felix winced. “Uh… I can hang up?”

 _“Why would I want that?”_ Mark asked. _“You wouldn’t call for no reason. Just tell me what’s up. I’ve missed talking to you guys. Jack’s so busy with his own shit, and Tyler’s going to all of these conventions. All I’ve got is Ethan and Amy.”_

“Oh no,” Felix drawled, grinning and rolling his eyes. “One of your best friends and your girlfriend. How terrible.”

 _“I’m suffering, Felix,”_ Mark lamented. _“Give me your terrible sarcasm and dark humor. It’s too bright here on the West Coast. Lend me your Scandinavian darkness. It’s the metal in you, it runs in your blood. Weren’t you born in Gothenburg? The birthplace of melodic death metal?”_

“How the fuck did you know that?” Felix asked. 

_“I know this band. Dark Tranquility. Good shit.”_ Mark let out this large sigh, like he was sitting down somewhere comfortable. _“So, Felix,”_ he said. _“The doctor is in. Lounge somewhere nice and pretend I’ve got you in my office. We’ll role-play this shit. How does that make you feel?”_

“Makes me feel like I’m in some weird porno,” Felix said. “Which is pretty uncomfortable.”

 _“I would definitely be an awesome porn star,”_ Mark said. _“But seriously. Dude. You called me. Something’s up. I’m not gonna push you, but if it’s actually serious…”_

“It’s not serious,” Felix said. “I’ve just been having some weird dreams, is all.”

_“I’m the dream doctor. Feed me your dreams and I shall give you relief.”_

“We’re really not doing the porn thing, Mark.”

_“You’re the one who brought up dreams, Felix.”_

Felix grimaced. “It’s just, it’s a little weird, okay? They’re dreams, but they don’t feel like dreams, even though they’re really obviously not reality. It’s in some, like, old viking time with swords and fur and witches and stuff. And there’s these two guys, and one of them’s me, somehow? Or at least, I’m looking through his eyes. And he’s in love with this boy and he’s…”

Felix couldn't keep going on his own. Mark gave him ample time to continue, but he just couldn’t.

 _“Are you trailing off because it’s a gay thing, or something else?”_ Mark asked. 

“A little bit of both,” Felix said. “Cause, like, I’ve had dreams where I’ve been with a random guy, it’s whatever. I’m comfortable enough to say that it doesn’t change the fact that I’m attracted to girls, you know? But the dream isn’t like that. It’s like the guy I am is in love with this other dude who looks exactly like…” He couldn't keep going again. 

_“Looks exactly like who?”_

Felix tugged at his hair, then reached down to pet Edgar again. It helped. “It’s weird.”

 _“It’s a dream, Felix. It’s not like you were being chased by a giant crab wearing loafers.”_ Mark laughed at his own joke. _“Can you imagine? Dreaming that sort of thing? Then we’d really have to be worried about your sexuality.”_

“The guy who I’m in love with in the dream looks like Jack,” Felix sighed. 

_“Like who?”_

“Like Jack,” Felix repeated. “Seán. As in, a mirror fucking image, but he’s different. He’s, like, accurate to the time period. His hair’s longer and he dresses like you think people would back then. He’s something called a _Cailleach_ , which is a witch, except _Cailleach_ is one hundred percent a feminine word, but he uses it. And I’m pretty sure it’s Irish. Or Gaelic? Which might be the same thing? Either way, it’s a language I don’t speak, and yet my brain suddenly knows it.” 

He suddenly remembered the opened web page and quickly typed in the word “Ériu” into the search engine. 

_“That’s, uh, a little weird,”_ Mark hedged. _“But not completely abnormal. If you’ve had a recent head injury, it could definitely attest to your knowledge of a language you thought you didn’t know. Or maybe you’ve heard the word before?”_

“When would I have ever heard someone say that?” Felix asked as the results loaded slowly. He needed better internet, shit fucking christ. “I don’t even know how I know how to pronounce it.”

 _“Okay, so it’s more than a little weird.”_ Mark sighed. _“No head injuries, then, I’m guessing. And it is a little weird that it’s Jack speaking Gaelic. It’s Gaelic, right? It’s weird that your brain is paying attention to historical accuracy. It’s giving you a lot of credit. Did you do well in history?”_

“God no,” Felix snorted. “I didn’t give enough of a shit, I only—” Felix cut himself off when the page loaded and a pixelated map of Ireland slapped his eyeballs. It was Ireland, to the fucking letter, except the letters spelled “Ériu.” 

_“Felix?”_ Mark called out over receiver. _“Dude, what? Was school that traumatic? Don’t Swedish people get paid to finish high school?”_

“Mark, what’s another name for Ireland?” Felix asked. He could explain this away if it was somehow common knowledge that he had missed. If Mark knew about this name, then maybe he wasn’t going crazy. Mark was silent for a moment. “Mark?”

_“Hasn’t it always been Ireland?”_

Panic trickled its way down Felix’s spine. “In my dream, I was calling the place Ériu,” he said slowly. “I thought it once or twice, I don’t really know how I knew the word. Except I just looked it up and that’s apparently the ancient name for Ireland.”

Mark was silent for even longer. _“… So you dreamed about falling in love with Jack in Ireland while being a viking.”_

“How the fuck do I know these words?” Felix asked. His fucking hands were fucking shaking. He could barely hold the phone to his ear. “Mark, I, I am not this smart.”

_“Maybe you need to give yourself a little more credit?”_

“Mark, I’m not this fucking smart.”

_“Dude, they’re just dreams.”_

“Except they feel like they’re more than that!” Felix insisted, moving closer to the computer so he could search more of the terms he could remember. Fuck, Gebo was apparently a legitimate rune. He looked up Linn Dúachaill next. “They feel real, Mark, they feel more like memories than dreams.” Fuck, that was also a real place. From 800 AD. This was horrible. “And everything I remember from these dreams are real, but they’re not shit I’ve ever known. Mark, how the fuck is this possible?”

 _“Shit, Felix, I have no idea,”_ Mark said. _“But it’s not like it’s hurting anyone, right? Even if these dreams are freakishly accurate, it’s not like they’re a bad thing.”_

Except Felix could barely sleep, and when he did, he woke up sick and even more tired than he’d been before. His hands would shake constantly no matter what he put in them, and he suddenly couldn’t imagine looking Jack in the eye. Maybe these dreams weren’t hurting anyone else, but Felix was scared they were starting to hurt him. “Of course,” he agreed with a strangled tone. 

_“They’re just dreams, Felix,”_ Mark assured him. _“It’s all in your head.”_

It didn’t feel like it. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for bothering you with this psycho bullshit. I basically had a meltdown there. My bad.”

 _“It’s cool, I’ve been having at least three meltdowns a day,”_ Mark told him. _“It’s healthy.”_

“Any idea on how not to have a dream?” 

_“Uh, don’t eat pizza before bedtime?”_ There was a rustling sound, then Mark’s voice became distant and staticky. _“Lemme look it up,”_ Mark said. _“It looks like… practicing sleeping hygiene, which is, like, keeping a good internal clock and a cold room, and avoiding caffeine before bed really can help. Then talking about the dream with a therapist or a friend. This lovely conversation with me probably counts. Uh, uhm, deal with daytime stressors, get help, and… holy shit, Felix, play video games. It’s literally recommended that you play video games, it was from some study about these American and Canadian soldiers with PTSD. Looks like it doesn’t work for women, though. That’s kinda weird.”_

“I play video games all day,” Felix said. “Doesn’t seem like it’s helped.”

 _“Yeah, that rule probably doesn’t apply to us,”_ Mark agreed. _“But hey, what if you tried talking to Jack about this? Like, I’m not telling you I don’t want to listen or anything, but maybe he can help? Especially since this dream is about him.”_

“I absolutely cannot do that,” Felix said. 

_“Why not? Would it be awkward? It’s not like you’re boning him or anything.”_

“No, I’m just frolicking through a forest with Jack and obsessing over his fucking hips as I kiss him like I’m in love or something weirder.”

 _“PewDiePie ships it?!”_ came a voice from somewhere further away than Mark. 

_“Oh shit,”_ Mark said. _“I, I forgot, Felix, you're on speaker phone, fuck.”_

Felix groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel so much contempt for you right now. Who do I have to pay off? How do I keep their silence? Do I buy them a car? Or a giant gummy bear? What about, like, a hooker? Can I buy a hooker from a different country? Is there some sort of online purchasing program or do I just mail you the money?”

_“I won’t say a word!”_

“Seriously, Mark, who is that?”

 _“It’s Ethan,”_ Mark sighed. _“I’m sorry. He, he won’t say a word.”_

“Even if he did, it isn’t like it’ll be that bad,” Felix said. “Blue haired dude going out and saying that the previous blue haired dude wants to romance the green haired dude is literally too weird to believe.” It sounded hilarious to him. “I don’t give as much of a shit as I should, Mark, I’ll just email you guys a hooker and then leave it at that.”

 _“I appreciate the payment for my silence,”_ came that same voice.

 _“I really am sorry,”_ Mark said. _“I put you on speaker so I could google the dream thing. I totally should’ve told you.”_

“Mark, Mark, it’s fine,” Felix said. “I legitimately don’t give a shit.”

_“My silence has also been aptly purchased!”_

Felix snorted a laugh. “Let me know if you figure out anything else about the dreams. Cause if this little therapy session doesn’t work and I have another freaky ass fucking dream about Senan, then I’m gonna flip my shit.”

 _“Who’s Senan?”_ Mark asked.

“Uh, that’s Jack,” Felix said. “Except his name is Senan.”

_“He has… another name?”_

“Yeah,” he said. “Is that, is that really what’s so weird for you? Out of everything I’ve told you, about me knowing all of the bullshit Irish history and Norse shit, the fact that Sean’s called Senan is what’s sticking out?”

 _“I mean, I guess it shouldn’t,”_ Mark said cautiously. _“Except I’ve never heard of that happening. Ethan. Ethan! Can you get me my laptop?”_ There was a shuffle of sound, and then a grunt from Mark. _“Okay, uh, let me just… Yeah, sorry, Felix. I can find barely anything on that. It’s only ever having people call you the wrong name, or you calling some dream character the name of a real person. But never a real person having a different name.”_

“He looked exactly like Jack from a different universe,” Felix said. “So… maybe he’s not actually Jack?”

_“But you said he was.”_

“I don’t know, Mark,” Felix sighed. “It’s him, okay? It has to be, or else I’ll have to actually acknowledge that these dreams are fucked beyond my understanding. So for now, it’s Jack, okay? Jack being called Senan. Might have accidentally called real Jack that already, so it’s not like I can just ditch this shit. Also? Don’t mention this to anyone.”

_“Why not?”_

“Because it’s weird, and I want to keep the weird limited to as few people as possible.”

 _“Whatever you say, Felix.”_ More shuffling. _“But hey, like I said. No one’s getting hurt and it’s just some dream, okay? As long as it doesn’t fuck up anyone else, it’s just in your head, and it’s gonna stay there.”_

Felix looked down at his shaking hands. “… Thanks for picking up, Mark. Good to talk to you. Enjoy the rest of your break.”

 _“So soon?”_ Mark sounded disappointed. _“Well, I should probably get back to my car buying anyways. But hey, if your dreams get any weirder, don’t hesitate to give me a call, okay? I may not know a whole lot about dreams, but I have had my fair share of them anyways. Like, way too many dreams. And all of them nightmares.”_ Felix winced. _“I can help you if you need it, Felix. Don’t be afraid to call.”_

“Thanks, Mark,” Felix said, now feeling infinitely worse. Poor Mark. He probably didn’t want to hear about dreams when he had his own shit to handle. He wasn’t going to call Mark again if he could help it. “And, uh, same to you, okay? You can call me. I know you’ve got a whole awesome support group over there of people who you can go to, but you can always come to me, too.”

There was a pause. _“Thanks, Felix. That means a lot. Who knows— maybe one day, I’ll find myself needing that fluid Swedish garble to soothe away the stressors of the night.”_ Felix laughed a little. _“I’ll talk to you later, Felix,”_ Mark said. _“Let me know if it gets any easier.”_

Felix hung up, then looked to the map on his screen. 

Ériu. 

A legitimate place hundreds of years ago. A place he hadn’t ever known the name of. With a man he’d never known speaking of runes he’d never known using a voice he’d never known. There was too much going on. Felix put everything down and just held onto Edgar, pulling the small dog to his chest. Edgar was half asleep, and barely protested as Felix squeezed the dog as tightly as he could without hurting him.

It didn’t matter what Mark thought. These dreams weren’t harmless. Felix let out a shuddery breath before researching sleep medication. Anything that would black out his mind.

. . .

_“It’s hard to see a world like this and not believe in the gods you describe to me,” Senan said, sitting beside Frey at the fire. There was a woman across from them, singing soft words to the cold air._

_“_ Tá a spiorad inár measc go fóill, _” she sang in her old crone. “_ An t-amadán sin de dheartháir agam a rinne é. Glactar isteach san fhuil go héasca é. Chuir sé an tine i gcuimhne dom. _”_

 _“_ Freyr, _the hero god,” Senan said. “The god you are named for. And_ Balder _, the god of light. His wife and his son, the god of justice.” Senan sighed, throwing a stick into the fire. Frey watched the flames curl the small slit of wood. “And the villains,” Senan continued. “_ Loki, Fenrir, Surt _. So much evil.” Senan smiled. “No wonder your people act on such cruelty.”_

_“Like your people do not have their own fair share of wrong.”_

_“We do, we do,” Senan affirmed, waving a hand in the air. “But I have heard of much more earthly evil from your people than my own. And I have heard of the fires spreading from the north, and from_ Duiblinn _. I have heard of the men and women with silver and gold hair, murdering their way through the countryside.” Senan turned a cold eye to Frey. “I am not to assume that was your purpose in finding this place, Frey? In coming to_ Doire _?”_

_Frey faltered. For all of his time with Senan, they had never breached the subject of Frey’s purpose in this town. “I am more than just a vagabond,” he admitted. “This is true. I am meant to be scouting the lands and finding ample place for us to spread our forces. But I…” Frey looked to the fire, to the woman across from them. Her name was Inis, and she had fed Frey dried elk the other day. “I cannot let my people take this place,” he told Senan, his voice small. “I will return to them, but I will not tell them what I have found.”_

_Senan seemed surprised. “You’d betray your own for a small town?”_

_“I’d betray my own for you,” Frey replied._

_“_ Cuisle _,” Senan murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers across the top of Frey’s hands. “I don’t want that. Not when it puts your life in danger.”_

_“My life is sacrifice,” Frey replied simply, remembering the life he’d been taught to lead. “If I die, then I will die for the fight that my heart is invested in. So long as I die upon the sword, defending, I will have the death my mother and father would wish for me to have.”  
Senan wet his lips. They shone in the fire and Frey could not look away. “And… the death I wish for you to have? If you must have a death at all?” Frey waited patiently for him to continue. “I would wish for you to die peacefully,” Senan said. “Quietly. Like you’ve stopped for a rest, or fallen into a deep sleep. I want you to simply lie in the grass and move on gently, safe, away from harm. I want you away from from the swords and the screaming and the sacrifice.” Senan’s fingers clenched into fists. His teeth sunk into his lip._

_“I know your heritage as well as one can,” Senan said. “And I am beginning to understand the violence that was born into your blood, but I cannot help but want you to have something more peaceful. I know that one day I will have to watch your back shrink from my view, only to never hear from you again. I know that you are bred to die in battle. But for all of what you are, I cannot want that for you.”_

_“I wish to deny me my destiny?” Frey asked, keeping his voice even. He wanted to understand, not start a fight._

_“I don’t want to deny your destiny, I want to give you a new one.” Senan looked ahead again. “I want you to have tranquility in your final moments. I want you safe and happy and able to slip off into that nothingness with your heart intact. I-I want you whole, Frey.” Senan’s hands unclenched and reached out to take Frey’s. Senan moved onto his knees in the first in front of him. The woman wasn’t singing any longer. She was gone._

_“I don’t want you to feel the fear that comes with a violent death,” Senan said, his voice reverent and pleading for Frey to understand him. “I want you to fall asleep and sink into death like a you do into my arms— not fighting and scrabbling for that last breath, not screaming and writhing in pain and fear. I want you to be beautiful and blissfully unaware as you take your last breath. I want you…” Senan’s hands tightened around Frey’s. His eyes brimmed with emotion. “If you must be taken from me in death, I want it to be the most gentle death one can have. I cannot have you suffer at your life’s end. I cannot have that._

_“A warrior as you should understand how I can say that,” Senan continued. “As you would die protecting me, I would die protecting you from that pain as well. Do you wish me to fall upon a blade and bleed out in the mud?”_

_“Never,” Frey denied, his heart clenching at the though, blanching at the idea of Senan lying twisted in the ground, broken open by iron and human hands. He ran his thumb over Senan’s knuckles. “You’re no warrior. You were never meant to see that kind of bloodshed.”_

_“Then how could I ever accept the same for you?” Senan asked._

_“Because it is my birthright to die like that,” Frey told him softly._

_“Then your birthright is a curse.”_

_Frey smiled sadly. “Maybe so,” he said, untangling a hand to reach up and rest his palm against Senan’s cheek. “But it is better to know you now and share whatever time I have left with you. I will keep my brothers from your home, and I will keep you in safety. I will do my best to come back from whatever battle I face. Just promise to be here upon me return.”_

_“Is this your home now?” Senan asked, lying his hand across Frey’s._

_“My home is wherever you see fit to stay,” Frey murmured. “Nothing matters to me so long as I have you.”_

_“And your people?” Senan pressed. “The ones moving from the north? The ones killing everything in their path.”_

_“They will not touch you,” Frey swore._

_Behind Senan, Frey swore he could see the fire spread beyond the rocks and into the houses behind them._

. . .

Felix woke up with his throat in his chest, his hand at his stomach, on his knees, in the middle of the street. He couldn’t breathe again, not past the pain in his torso. It felt like something had been stabbed through his body, in through his sternum and out through his back. It felt like the vertebrae of his spine were split. The concrete was freezing his legs through the thin material of his worn sweatpants and the t-shirt he was wearing gave little warmth.

He felt like he was dying.

And somehow, beyond the pain, there was a horrible, overwhelming emotion in his heart that had him teetering to his feet and stumbling down the street, barefoot. Felix didn’t know where he was going, but each step made it easier to breathe. He felt like his bones were sliding back into place. He felt like he could survive this. 

“Just a dream,” he wheezed, still unable to get much air. “It’s just a dream.” 

Those words had never seemed more like a lie. He clutched at his body, at the place that had felt like there’d been something shoved into his flesh. He couldn’t understand that throbbing pain that was left behind, because there wasn’t a hole in his body, there was nothing to explain the distinct feeling of having been _fucking impaled._ He was half surprised to feel no blood. 

And underneath it all lied this undying ache. This horrible fucking need. He could feel Senan’s skin in his hand, but staring back at him was Jack. The words Senan had said to him, to Frey, rang in his mind like bells, but it was Jack saying those things to him, telling him what he imagined for Felix’s death, wishing him to live in safety and die in peace. The love that Senan had looked to Frey with was now Jack looking to Felix, and fuck, fuck, his hands were shaking. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind.

Now he was picturing Jack in those fucking trees, looking to the sky and then pressing his lips to Felix’s. He was seeing Jack by that fire, talking about magic, talking about murderers from the north, talking about the future he wanted them to have. 

He couldn’t breathe, he still couldn’t fucking breathe, and he was okay with it, because Jack was behind his mind’s eye, saying he loved him, and somehow it felt right. Felix finally stopped and looked up to see where his feet had taken him. He felt like he was waking up a second time when he saw his fist hovering just inches away from a door. He then looked up and realized he was at Jack’s house. Felix looked back to his fist.

He needed to see Jack. It was a visceral, bone-deep need, and it was more important than breathing now, because he’d be fine, he’d gladly drop dead to the ground if it meant he got to see Jack. If he got to feel Jack’s skin against his, if he got to look into those blue eyes and say _“is breá liom tú,”_ if he got to touch Jack and kiss him and lie him down and make him feel like he was the most important thing in the world, because Senan _was_ that important, and Senan deserved to be fucking worshiped, he deserved to be protected and praised and smothered in all the love Frey could give him and—

Felix fell away from the door and ran from that house as quickly as he could.

. . .

[it’s getting worse] was the message he sent Mark. 

Felix was home. It was dark outside. He had his third glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers and he could finally breathe again, but Jack was still behind his eyelids and Felix was calling himself Frey. He didn’t know what time it was here, so he definitely didn’t know what time it was in the States. He hoped he wasn’t, like, fucking up Mark’s day or something. Curled on the couch, though, with everyone else gone to function like the normal human beings Felix couldn’t be, he needed to reach out to someone, because he now legitimately knew he was drowning. Sinking into the depths of some sort of insanity that was making him feel and think things he couldn’t understand. He was being manipulated, molded into a person who had either been dead for thousands of years, or wasn’t even real at all. 

But it was still selfish, wasn’t it? Putting his problems on Mark. He’d talked to him literally yesterday; he had no excuse to contact him so soon. Felix couldn’t really go to anyone else, though. Mark was the dream guy, he had nightmares often enough. Felix didn’t have anywhere else to turn to. 

It occurred to him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. He hadn’t really gone outside since the pub, unless it was fucking midnight and part of a dreaming stupor. Felix had to record a video today, but he felt like getting off this fucking couch was probably the most impossible thing he could do today, so recording anything was out of the question. Plus, the tremor was gone, and that was because he was more than a little drunk. They hadn’t exactly been shots of whiskey, they’d been legitimate fucking glasses, wide enough for his palm. 

The alcohol was helping the shakes, but it wasn’t helping the thoughts. He wanted to lift his shirt and see if he had any sort of legitimate injury, but the thought of finding anything actually there implicated too much for him to stomach. And he still couldn’t get Jack out of his mind. He’d called himself Frey a couple times in his head, and he was seeing weird shapes out of the corners of his eyes. They looked like branches, but were usually too geometric to actually be what Felix imagined them to be. In the back of his mind, he recognized them and what they meant. He refused to acknowledge the fact, because he didn't want to throw up.

_[what’s worse?]_

Felix stared at Mark’s message for a long time, debating responding. He didn’t want to bother Mark, but he needed help. 

[the dreams] he replied. [nightmares rly]

_[how are they nightmares?]_

Felix didn’t know how to describe it, so he didn’t reply. Mark would worry, but it wasn’t like Felix could describe to Mark how he’d woken from a dream with a hole in his chest that wasn’t real, and zombie walked all the way to Jack’s house because he’d been positive that kissing and holding Jack would be the thing that would cure the breathlessness. That was just too much. 

Fuck, he needed to eat. And he needed Jack. No, he didn’t, he needed a therapist. A doctor. Someone to split his head open and figure out what was wrong. Felix suddenly realized he was isolating himself. Wasn’t that a warning sign?

[its weird bcuz i feel like im supposed to be in love with jack like frey loves senan]

_[are you sure its the dream making you feel like that????]_

Felix stared at the screen, dread sliding down his throat. [fuck i hope so]

Jack wasn’t some newly found big gay secret, Jack was Felix’s friend, and he’d been his friend for ages. That wasn’t supposed to change. It could only be the dream. 

_[can i call?]_

Ah, fuck, now Felix really felt like shit. He told Mark yes, then slumped back on the couch and downed the last of his glass. He was a little grateful for feeling like such depressing shit. When he was depressed and drinking, he actually had pretty good motor function. Mark probably wouldn’t pick up on him being drunk. His phone vibrated in his lap and he fumbled to answer it. Scratch that, maybe his motor functions were a little shit. He accidentally answered the call before he could even get a grip on the phone. 

_“Felix?”_

“Hold up, hold up,” he mumbled, putting his empty glass on the floor. Two hands, Felix, pick up the fucking phone. He brought it to his face, then slouched all the way down the couch so he was lying on his side and he could put the phone on the cushion. There. Now he wouldn’t have to hold it up. “Oh hi, Mark.”

_“Dude, are you drunk?”_

“You would be too if you could,” Felix said. “You would be drunk if you had the dreams that I do.”

_“Are they really that bad?”_

They weren’t. The dreams themselves weren’t, but it was what happened to Felix when he was awake. He stared at the wall across for him and read the symbol _Fehu_ on the plaster. The symbol shone like a neon light and he grimaced. This was a god damn hallucination. 

_“Felix.”_

“I felt like I’d been stabbed,” he told Mark. “And I woke up in the street. I’ve never slept walked before, and I… I ended up at Jack’s house without knowing how I actually got there. And now I’m seeing things.”

 _“You’re seeing things?”_ There was the sound of a computer being turned on. _“Tell me what you’re seeing.”_

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” he said. 

_“Felix, what are you seeing?”_

“The runes,” Felix breathed. _Othila_ was shining at him from the floor. “Fuck, I think I drank too much.” He reached out, meaning to touch the glowing shape. But the second his fingertips came into contact with the rune, a horrible pain lanced through his arm. He cried out in panic and tore his hand away, the pain piercing his alcohol-muddled mind. It felt like his arm was on fire. He looked to his fingertips and swore he could watch the skin melt and peel away. 

Felix fell back onto the couch, his arm held into the air. He splayed out his fingers and watched flames lick down his skin. It stopped hurting around his wrist, and then he could just watch the fire eat him alive. The flames moved slowly down his arm left behind charred and twisted flesh. His hand and upper arm were left black.

 _“Felix, hey!”_ Mark shouted from the phone. _“What was that?! Are you okay?”_

“I’m burning,” Felix said. He didn’t know if Mark could hear him or not. “Holy shit.”

_“Felix, answer me!”_

Felix lost his concentration and looked to his phone. When he looked back to his arm, the fire was gone, and his skin was as pale as ever. He shuddered. “Mark,” he called out, his voice trembling. He would’ve been embarrassed if this wasn’t so fucked up. “I really think there’s something wrong with me.”

_“It’s a dream, Felix.”_

“It’s not just a fucking dream,” Felix insisted. “Frey and Senan feel so fucking…” They felt real. Felix sat up and forced his brain to keep working. “Mark, I need you to look something up for me,” he said. “Look up a place called _Doire_ that’s south of a place called _Linn Dúachaill._ Tell me what you find.” He spelled out the words for Mark, then waited with baited breath. Mark trailed into silence after a small narration of his findings.

_“Felix, how do you know about this place?”_

“It’s where Senan lives,” Felix said. “It’s where Frey found him. And Frey wants to protect it, he wants to keep it safe and he wants to keep Senan safe. Frey’s people, the, the vikings, they’re burning their way through Ériu, but Frey promised he’d keep them from Doire so they couldn’t hurt anyone Senan cared about. And Senan is a witch sort of thing, and he wanted to learn about the runes Frey sees, and now I’m seeing the runes, and I’m Frey, Mark, I’m Frey, I have to…”

When he stopped talking, Mark spoke. _“Felix, I’m going to call Marzia.”_

“Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Felix rushed, getting up too quickly and swaying on his feet. “Don’t tell her this, don’t tell anyone! You can’t tell anyone. They’ll put me in some asylum, they’ll put me on crazy medication when it won’t help.”

_“What makes you say it won’t?”_

Felix suddenly hated the way Mark was talking to him. “I’m not crazy,” he said firmly, even though he’d basically been thinking that about himself moments before. “You found something, right? You fucking found something that proves that these are more than just dreams.”

_“What I found can’t be possible, Felix.”_

Holy shit, maybe he really did find something. “What did it say?”

_“It, it didn’t say anything, Felix, you need help if you’re seeing things.”_

“Mark, what did it say?”

 _“It says exactly what you told me,”_ Mark sighed. _“This place called_ Doire _by_ Linn Dúachaill _. It’s some ancient settlement from 800 AD or thereabouts and it got… it got destroyed by the Vikings, Felix. It’s a real place, except I had to fucking dig for it, and I really have no idea how you found this place, but if you’re playing a trick on me, I will fucking kill you.”_

“ _Doire’s real_?” Felix sunk to the ground. The rune shone in front of his knees. He didn’t want to touch it again. Felix pushed his hand into his air. He was trembling again. He needed to drink more, but he didn’t want to do that while on the phone with Mark. “Do you think that could mean…”

_“Felix, I stand by my statement that you need legitimate help.”_

“Fuck off, Mark, I didn’t look any of this shit up, so how could I have known?” _Doire_ was real; he didn’t know what to do with that information. “I, I have to go,” he said. He didn’t want to accidentally blurt his train of thought aloud to the man who was ready to label him as crazy. “Thanks for calling.”

_“But Felix—”_

Felix hung up before Mark could keep going. “Calling him was a mistake,” he said to himself as he got up and stumbled around to try and find his shoes. He needed a library. The internet was fantastic and all, but the screen of his phone glowed too much like a rune, and he knew his computer would be the same. He didn’t want to burn again. “Shouldn’t have called him,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t have called.” He wanted to see Jack. What a stupid feeling.

Felix walked through the brisk, October air with a purpose. He didn’t feel safe enough to risk driving a car. He wasn’t dressed for the weather— a t-shirt was useless in this kind of cold. But his arm was still tingling with the remnants of the flames, and he was worried that if he put his arm out of sight, he’d look to it again and see it blackened like before. 

Jubilee Library was a glass fortress Felix had never really paid any attention to until today. He didn’t understand the design, and thought all of the light would be bad for the eyes of the kinds of shut-ins that actually still went to the library. Even he wanted a much darker, drearier setting than this brightly lit, glass sculpture of a building. He found himself a corner and dropped his phone onto the desk that was there, then ventured off into the endless rows of books and intended on grabbing anything that could mean something.

Unfortunately, he was entirely lost.

Felix fumbled his way around the library, picking up every random book he saw because he felt like it could mean something, even if it didn’t. He had a handful of books on Vikings and others on Druids and then a book of a shit ton of maps from every era of the known world. He had a book on the Norse gods and then the Norse language, but both of those books looked ready to fall apart. As he filled his arms, he became less and less confident in his abilities. Maybe he should’ve stayed on the phone with Mark. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a rune glinting down an aisle. Felix steadfastly ignored it and kept his eyes on his arm, making sure he still had skin.

Felix dropped into the chair and began the debilitating task of leafing through every single page of every single book. He found himself wishing it was in Swedish. Felix's English was good, and he had no problem understand English grammar or any of that shit, but he would definitely be reading a lot more quickly if this were in his native tongue. 

He poured over the books regardless, until his brain hurt and his eyes strained. All he had found so far was information on the god Frey was named for, an extensive history of the Irish, and even more reason to wonder over Senan’s ease in calling himself a Cailleach and why the fuck the Druids apparently thought men couldn’t be witches.

The more he looked, the less sense he could make of it all, and the more confident he became in his insanity. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe these really were just dreams and he really should reach out and get himself medicated. He needed a fucking doctor. The books were forcing him to rationalize.

Felix slammed shut the book he was reading— some up the ass history book by a dude named Ferguson— and debated just calling an ambulance from here. He’d get himself into a mental facility and just sort out everything else from there. Felix pressed his palms into his eyes and focused on not freaking out. 

Frey wasn’t real. Senan wasn’t real. They were just dreams.

“Frey isn’t real,” Felix repeated to himself. “Senan isn’t real. I’m real. Jack’s real. That…” That still sounded like bullshit, because that still meant that Felix suddenly wanted to bone Jack. God, he couldn’t take this.

As he leaned back in the chair, he saw that same rune, glittering in the annoying light of the library. It was the rune _Perth,_ a rune about a secret. He glanced to his arm. There wasn’t even a fucking scar. It probably hadn’t even been real. What was Felix so scared of?

He got up and moved back through the aisles, taking the lit book from its home (avoiding the rune) and not even sparing a glance at the cover until he was back at the desk.

_“Reincarnation & Past Lives: A Second Chance”_

Felix had half a mind to put the book back, rune be damned. This was literally too much bullshit. Still, he eventually opened the book and mindlessly flipped through the pages, moving too quickly to really read, waiting for something to stick out. There’d never been a point to where the runes had appeared before, so it wasn’t crazy to think this was really just a random book that had nothing to do with—

Another rune, spread out across a page. _Ansuz,_ the rune of Loki and a message. The page had the title _“Sváfa and Helgi Hjörvarðsson,”_ which had to be the most fucking bizarre name he’d ever seen. It was an excerpt from the _Poetic Edda_ , some Norse poem that Felix had read quite a bit about in nearly everything he read about Norse Mythology. The rune shone bright on the page, obscuring the penned image to the left of the page.

He read the words to the right, but it was just the story of this god and the valkyrie that were in love and kept dying. They were reincarnated three fucking times just to try and get it right. Felix was a little astounded by that kind of dedication, but it was fiction. He didn’t see any point to a fictional story when real love couldn’t ever be like that. Plus, the story had nothing to do with his fucking stupid dreams. 

Felix turned his attention to the rune. Whatever he needed to see had to be underneath it, but the light was too bright. Felix looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was around. If his arm was about to burn again, he didn’t want anyone to be around to watch him lose his shit. He didn’t want to watch his arm get charred again, but something kept niggling at the back of his mind, something that was telling him the rune wasn’t there just because he was nuts. The rune was talking to him. It was trying to show him something and he couldn’t ignore it. He just hoped it wouldn’t hurt this time.

Felix moved to rest his hand over the rune before he could talk himself out of it. Pain seared through his arm again and into his head. The rune flared and—

_Senan ran the the knife through Frey’s hand. He felt the skin break and blood fill his palm. Frey’s eyes were shut, but he could still gleam that Senan was crouched in front of him, blocking the firelight. He didn’t wince at the pain or clench his fist. He let the blood flow, as he’d been told to do._

_“Now open your eyes and look into mine,” Senan said, his voice low and gravely. Frey did as told and was blown away by the severity of Senan’s dark gaze into his own. “Let me in,” Senan murmured. His hand was bleeding too, dripping onto the wood below. “Let your guard down for me.”_

_Frey’s breath caught and he struggled to do as asked. This was a ritual Senan had been taught by his mother, a ritual Frey sorely wanted to complete. He stared into Senan’s dark eyes and let himself breathe slowly, focusing only on the warm touch of Senan’s skin against his own. Their blood began to mix on the floorboards._

_“We are two souls,” Senan said in a spellbinding voice. “Two minds, traveling down life’s road. It has come to us to be closer than most. Allow me to travel with you, Frey,” and at the utterance of Frey’s name, Senan set the stone knife on the floor to reach up and cup Frey’s jaw with his clean hand. “As I allow you to travel with me. Mind, body, soul, all are as one. We are two souls destined to act as one. Travel with me.”_

_Senan leaned in and brushed their lips together. “Be my guide as I shall be yours,” he whispered, his mouths centimeters from Frey’s. He could feel the brush of every word Senan said. “Let us not be two, but one reflection of one mind. Two souls moving closer, ever closer— never to part. We are two acting as one.” Senan pressed against Frey’s lips, kissing him softly before continuing. “Allow your shield to lower as I allow mine to weaken for you… We are two acting as one. Two living as one— two, dying as one.”_

_“_ Ek ann þér _” Frey hoped he wasn’t ruining the ritual— he just needed Senan to know. Senan smiled, though he looked confused. He didn’t know any of Frey’s native language._

_“Dying as one,” Senan repeated, sliding their bloodied palms over each other, letting the blood mix. Frey shuddered. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Senans’. “And beyond death,” Senan finished._

_“Beyond death,” Frey whispered before leaning in to kiss Senan again. His heart twisted in his chest as Senan pulled their bloodied hands apart to hold onto Frey’s face with both hands. The warmth of Senan’s blood on his cheek would remain in his memory forever._

_Frey’s stomach bloomed into pain. He was outside, the houses were burning, and there was a sword stuck through his body._

Air swam into Felix’s lungs like his head had been held underwater, and he gasped for breath, barely able to see past the bleary darkness in his vision. He was on the floor, he could feel cheap carpet under his shaking hands. His back was against solid wood— a bookcase. Felix was on the floor of the library, and he couldn’t breath past the nonexistent hole in his chest. He felt like his arm was on fire. He was crying. 

“Please be a dream,” he sobbed. “Please. Just let it be a dream.”

On the ground in front of him lied the book on reincarnation— on the page was an image of a woman holding her dying lover, who had been stabbed through the stomach.


	2. Tall Ceilings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _and i thought the first chapter was long *hysterical laughter* what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu_
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> not as much in the glossary this time because i didn't really want to include repeated words. and hey, if you noticed italic mess-ups and stuff, let me know :) this shit gets messy after about 6k i really don't know how i managed a whole fucking 15k for this chapter
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> **Glossary**  
>  **díabul** : (Gaelic) devil/demon  
>  **elskede** : (Norwegian Norse) beloved  
>  **Oathing Stone** : (Gaelic) equivalent to marriage, two people would take an object of meaning to them from nature, make their promise to one another (essentially wedding vows) while being witnessed by a chief. once the oaths are made, the object (usually a stone or a stick) would either be tossed back into nature, or kept as an heirloom in the household  
>  **Einar** : meaning “lone warrior”  
>  **Ragnarok** : (Norse) cyclical end of the world— a fierce battle between gods  
>  **Valhalla** : (Norse) Viking heaven— an endless battle with a ton of mead  
>  **Ek skil þat eigi** : (Norse) I don’t understand  
>  **Hvat segir þú** : (Norse) how are you/are you okay  
>  **Ann** : (Norse) love  
>  **Svá vel** : (Norse) please (inf.)  
>  **Hel taki þik** : (Norse) May the Devil take you
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>  **Verse**  
>  **fuair sé amach gur cosa cré a bhí ar an laoch aige**  
>  he discovered his hero had feet of clay  
>  **níor lú de laoch é dá bharr**  
>  he was no less hero because of it  
>  **tháinig céad bliain d’aois air in aon lá amháin**  
>  he aged by one hundred years in one day  
>  **is é an t-údar maíte atá aige nár chaill sé riagg**  
>  his proud boast is that he never lost  
>  **go dtí dhiútlaigh sé suco scan bualadh linn**  
>  until he stubbornly refused to meet us  
>  **cé eile ach amadán a dhéanfadh a leithéid**  
>  and who but a fool would do that?

Felix began a nightly ritual.

It was well developed, well thought out. It focused on him working his brain into utter mush until he wasn’t even capable of forming coherent sentences, let alone give his body a chance to formulate those memories into dreams. Felix assumed that it was just more mentally taxing for his brain to give him those dreams, as they were of memories that weren’t his own. It had to be harder to draw those memories from someone who’d been dead for thousands of years Felix was sure that if he worked himself half to death, then his sleep would be dreamless.

It worked for one night.

One single night of empty bliss. After he’d gotten back from the library, Felix had gone on one of the longest runs of his life, to the point of exhaustion, to the point where someone had asked if he’d needed an ambulance because he was running himself to the peak of his physical limitation. Then he’d gone home and read every single book Marzia had in Italian, forcing himself to figure out every sentence on his own. After that, he’d stayed awake as long as had been possible, forcing himself to keep moving through the pages as his eyes burned as his body began to fail. 

Only once his vision had started to swim had Felix let himself fall asleep. And thank whichever fucking god was putting him through this hell, the sleep had been dreamless. 

The next day, he did the same exact gruesome ritual, only to dream of _Senan dancing with Frey to the feverish singing of the bards around them while the fires of the small town rose high into the night sky._

“It’s not working,” Felix gasped to himself, feeing like he was still dancing too close to the edge of those fires. “It’s not working, it’s not working, _it’s not fucking working._ ” 

He needed to calm down, though. He could finally fucking breathe again, and it was easier to manage than the last time. There was a rune in the corner of his eye, glowing on the bathroom door. It was the only reason he hadn’t fled inside the bathroom after waking up to keep from disturbing Marzia. 

Except she wasn’t in bed next to him, but whatever. 

Felix ran his hands through his hair. The dream had actually been relatively mild, though the song they’d been singing still ran through his head, a perfect memorization. He found himself humming along under his breath and quickly cut himself off. He was sure that if he looked up the words, he’d find some bullshit article about the magical merits of ancient Gaelic culture. He’d found out that the song was real. 

Three AM read his phone. He peeled himself from the sheets, grimacing at the sweat that was sticking to his skin. It had to have been the heat of the fire. He didn’t know why he felt more like he was burning than suffocating coming out of the dreams these nights. He didn’t know if he was relieved or worried. His phone also read of seven fucking messages and two phone calls from Mark. Calling him had been a mistake. He’d say it a million times to keep himself from calling again. 

There was snuffling from the kitchen, down the hall, and Felix knew it was Maya, but he didn’t know where Edgar was. Maybe Marzia had taken Edgar on a walk at three in the fucking AM. He got up and went to the kitchen, looking around for the dogs. That’s when he saw Marzia sleeping on the couch. 

Guilt swam through him. He approached the couch on light feet, scratching at his arm that still stung a little, like a burn from touching the stove for a split second too long. He moved onto his knees on the floor beside the couch and watched Marzia for a long moment, wondering if he would be better off just letting her sleep. God knew he would want that if he were in her place. 

Marzia stirred on her own, though, then smiled sleepily, stretching his arms out across the couch. “Felix,” she said. “Hello.”

“You’re on the couch,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Is it…”

Marzia hummed, rolling onto her back. “Yes,” she said. “You haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix said. “I-I feel awful. You can go back to bed, I, I’ll take the couch.” He didn’t mind the couch if it meant she would be spared the soreness. “You could’ve said something.”

“Is everything okay, Felix? You haven’t recorded these past couple days,” she said, all gentle concern and love. Felix suddenly hated himself. Here was this perfect, lovely girl, showing him this trust and concern, and he was dreaming about tangling limbs with a he-witch from thousands of years ago. Was he cheating? It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying to stop the dreams, but it was still his own head. Wasn’t he mostly to blame? “Felix?”

“I think I’m sick,” Felix said. He had to give her something, even though he knew it couldn’t be the truth. “I think I’m really, really sick, and I don’t know how to get better.”

She moved onto her side, facing Felix, expression full of concern. “Is it like a cold?”

“It’s something else,” he denied, shaking his head. “Something worse.”

“Should we go to a doctor?”

Felix breathed out shakily. “I don’t think a doctor can help me.”

She was a lot more awake now. “Mark called me yesterday.”

That wasn’t a surprise. “I’m sure he did.”

“He seemed very worried for you. He talked a lot about nightmares.” She sat up, and Felix hated himself a little bit more. Marzia should be lying in bed, sleeping peacefully. She shouldn’t be on this fucking couch, retreating out of her own room just to get a some rest. And she definitely shouldn’t be so worried about Felix when this was all his own fault. “Are you having nightmares, Felix?” she asked. “It seems like you are. The other night, you were… You seemed very upset. You talked in a language I’ve never heard before.”

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted her to hear that. “They’re dreams,” he said, because he couldn’t call the nightmares anymore. “They’re… kinda like flashbacks.” How could he spin this? He couldn’t tell her the truth, he couldn’t tell anyone the truth. Mark knew the truth and his first thought had been some fucking doctor immediately after stubborn denial. The truth wouldn’t help him here. “But I don’t really know what they are. I just always wake up feeling like I’m either suffocating or burning alive.”

“That sounds awful,” Marzia said, brow knitted upwards. “Have you— have you tried anything?”

“Tried working myself till I passed out,” Felix said. “That’s what I’ve been doing these past two days.”

“But it didn’t work.”

He shook his head. “Like I said. There’s something wrong with me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a doctor?”

“Positive.” 

Marzia reached out and brushed her finely manicured nails through his hair. She then brought them back to his forehead. “You have a fever,” she said. “Or at least, you are very warm.” She moved to get off the couch, but Felix gently pushed her back down. “If you are sick on top of everything…”

“It’s late,” Felix said in way of reason. “You probably have a lot to do tomorrow. I’m just gonna take a shower, then try to get some more sleep. Except I’ll be on the couch. Okay?” He tried to smile for her sake. She probably saw right through him, but gave in with a sigh nonetheless. “Go back to bed,” he told her. “I’ll keep quiet.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything to help.”

“I will,” he promised, though he had no idea if anything would ever help him. 

“Have a nice shower,” she mumbled, getting off the couch. Felix watched her shuffle back into the bedroom. He felt a little better knowing she was finally going to get some decent sleep— unlike himself. He would need to work on making the couch livable. He decided he was going to sleep there until the dreams were finally fucking gone. 

The blanket Marzia left behind moved, and then Edgar poked his head out, panting happily at Felix. “Jesus christ, there you are,” he said, reaching out to pet the dog. Edgar crawled out from underneath the duvet and flopped onto the couch. “Lazy piece of shit,” he said fondly. “I’m gonna get naked. You stay here.” Edgar was wide eyed now, he couldn’t be sent back to the bedroom. He’d just keep Marzia up for the rest of the night. “Don’t you dare pee on anything,” he told Edgar. “Better still be clean by the time I get back.”

Felix undressed as he went to the bathroom (ignoring the symbol on the door), tossing his shirt somewhere that he was only half sure he’d remember to pick up later. He still felt too hot, and maybe Marzia had been going somewhere with him having a fever. He stepped out of his pants, then shut the bathroom door behind him, starting up the water and debating on how cold he could have it without legitimately freezing himself. Felix glanced up, then saw a rune against the wall, next to the mirror. He frowned. Why would it be there? Hell, why had that other rune been on the bathroom door in the first place? Did it mean something like the one in the library?

Felix approached the rune, reading it as _Ansuz_ again. He wanted to reach out and touch it, regardless of his decidedly horrible experience with runes, but as he got close enough, it faded away. Felix frowned even deeper. Now his brain was just playing with him. His frown morphed into a scowl, and he turned away with half a mind to verbally tell his brain to stop being an asshole. It didn’t seem so crazy after everything else going on. As he made to move back to the shower, his reflection caught his eye. 

Was that a scar?

Felix bent over the sink to get closer, fingers pressing to his skin. There was a mark that had never been there before. It was on his abdomen, just above his belly button. The mark was barely visible and the barest shade of pink. The skin was raised and Felix’s fingers caught on the edge. It looked like a stab wound. It was placed exactly where Felix would sometimes feel pain upon waking. 

“What the fuck?” he said to himself. His hands started shaking. “ _What the fuck_.”

He tore himself away from his reflection and got into the shower, flinching as the cold water hit his overheated body. He couldn’t pull his hand from the new scar tissue on his stomach. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself. If he’d needed proof that he wasn’t insane, he had it now.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. So, it’s real.”

That was the only explanation. The Reincarnation book from the other day was probably something he should permanently invest in. Felix decided he was going to move past the internal debate and act on these dreams being someone else’s memories, someone who was in love with Jack’s clone. Or ancestor? Except if Felix was having the dreams from someone else’s point of view, that probably meant Felix was dreaming of his own ancestor. Or past life? Whatever the fuck it was, he realized it would be easiest to understand if he related all of this to Assassin’s Creed.

Felix was Desmond Miles, and Frey was Altaïr. 

Senan was, like, Malik? And Seán didn’t have a corresponding NPC, so Felix decided Seán would just be Shaun Hastings, because Malik and Shaun were both the smart dude, and Seán sounded the same as Shaun. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe that Malik and Shaun Hastings could’ve been genetically connected somehow. It had seemed like an obvious enough parallel in the game. Holy shit, that actually worked really well.

Felix was very impressed with himself. 

“This is perfect,” Felix said, shivering under the spray. “Okay, uh, okay, I’m Desmond. Which means… this is like the bleeding effect.” Yeah, that made sense too. “There’s probably an Ezio in me, somewhere, which would be even cooler.” Could he get into other past lives? Fuck, did Felix even believe in reincarnation? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, unless he wanted to shove himself into an asylum on his own. Was Assassin’s Creed about reincarnation or genetics? Did it even matter?

It kinda did matter. If it was just genetics, then Felix could marvel over the serendipitous coincidence of his ancestor knowing Seán’s, and then them somehow becoming friends so far in the future. It would be a wonderful phenomenon, and maybe a little easier to tell Jack about. It was easier to believe the genetics thing— he could explain it away with some bullshit, like ancestry-dot-com. He could come up with evidence for it, a real paper trail that would make himself seem so much less crazy, so long as he left out the dreams. 

But if it wasn’t genetics— if it was reincarnation— then his relationship with Jack would have to be something more like… like soulmates.

Felix’s heart clenched painfully at the thought. It had to be genetics. It had to be, for the sake of his mental health. Or it had to be something else, something beyond genetics? Senan had done that ritual, the one where he’d sliced open his and Frey’s hands and muttered some weird shit about them being together beyond death. So maybe it was some weird form of magic genetics. But not soulmates. Anything but soulmates.

Felix needed to figure out what to do from here, that much was obvious. He felt limited by what little history he knew, and even more limited by what was available to him. The internet seemed like the least reliable source, and the library was just a little too new. He didn’t know where he would find that kind of information, though. He didn’t know any historians, and it wasn’t like he’d be able to find one that would believe his insane tales. Even worse, Senan and Frey weren’t, like, famous. There wouldn’t be any specific information on them, and he couldn’t just go around, throwing out their names.

Maybe a psychic was the best option? Or an expert in reincarnation, which be probably be some psychic. Except Felix didn’t believe in any of that mumbo jumbo, regardless of what was going on in his head. He felt like if those psychics really knew what Felix was going through, it could only be through experience. And he doubted anyone’s ability to function normally under this kind of duress for too long, so that was one argument against all of those so called “psychics.” 

Maybe he was being a skeptic— he just didn’t feel like wading his way through a bunch of fakes in search of a legitimate psychic that he wasn’t even sure existed. He just felt like that if there were other people out there seeing a past life in their dreams, they’d be a little more gun shy about labeling themselves as something like “psychic.” It just seemed counterintuitive. It was one thing to call yourself psychic and know that everyone knows you’re lying. It was another thing to actually have some sort of psychic bullshit going on and losing your mind to it for everyone to see.

Felix had always felt like the people with the real abilities wouldn’t want to tell anyone. It was how he felt, after all. He wasn’t claiming to be psychic, but there was something abnormal about his mind that he felt like he should hide. Like he had something to be ashamed or afraid of, which he totally fucking did. People would think of him as a freak. They'd lock him away. Felix felt like the people who would brag about having abilities would never be the ones to actually have them. It was the people who had abilities, the people who knew how stressful and taxing and downright painful they could be, that would know this sort of thing needed to be hidden. 

Still, he wished there was someone he could reach out to. Someone he could talk to. The hard part about realizing that people like him would know not to talk about what they saw was that he knew he’d never know if anyone else was like him. But maybe it was easier than that. Maybe, maybe Jack could help him. If Jack was Malik and then Shaun, maybe he was having dreams just like Felix.

A surge of hope flared in Felix. Maybe Jack was going through the same thing. Maybe they could help each other. Maybe Jack was even feeling the same tug at his heart, the same need to see Felix and be at his side. Maybe Jack was starting to fall for him too. 

Felix slammed a hand out to brace himself against the wall of the tub. The thought had more than just his hands shaking. His body flushed, despite the cold, and guilt twisted alongside the unexpected pleasure of thinking Jack could want him back. For a moment, Felix wasn’t sure if these were actually his own emotions, or just the bleeding affections of Frey. Fuck, who even was Felix anymore? Aside from an asshole. He needed to get his shit together. 

Beyond that, he needed information. He needed to either find someone who knew a thing or two about what was happening to him, or become that very person. The latter seemed more likely to be attainable, but he didn’t know how to reach that level of knowledge. He just knew that he couldn’t get there from here.

It occurred to him that he would probably have a lot better luck _not_ in England. It wouldn’t help to go to Sweden or Norway, but… 

Fuck, what if he went to Ériu?

He knew where _Doire_ was, thereabouts. He’d seen the forest often enough, he was sure that if he he got to the general area, he’d easily be able to find the original spot. Maybe there was a town rebuilt there, maybe people knew the history of the area by word of mouth and not through more conventional methods. 

Fuck, what was he doing, thinking he could solve all of his problems in the _wrong fucking country?_

In front of him, a rune lit up. _Ehwaz_ — the rune of movement and progress, of relocation and change and advancement. Felix grinned at it. If he’d needed any further confirmation to influence his decision, that would be it. 

Felix finally set about washing off his body instead of freezing as he planned on how he was going to get information for Jack on the best places to see in Ériu to disguise this trip as entirely normal. He knew it would take time to plan a trip. Felix plotted out the next few weeks in his already muddled mind and just hoped he’d be able to last until he could finally go get some answers.

. . .

_”Your ways are still strange me to,” Frey said as he watched a mother lead her two children on the long path through the town that steered clear of Senan’s little home. “Your people act as if you are something to avoid. But only some of them.” He glanced to his left, to where Senan was sitting beside him, whittling a boar out of a piece of wood. Senan shrugged, mainly concentrated on his carving._

_“While the wiser ones know that I mean them no harm, the younger and more ignorant believe my powers to be more hostile than just of the earth and gods.”_

_“All of them worship the same gods as you,” Frey said._

_“Yes,” Senan affirmed. “But… They fear the gods. I do not.” Senan blew away a few splinters of wood, admiring his half finished work with a proud smile. “They believe that any harm that may befall our village will be at my own fault, whether it be from my inability to fear the gods as they do, or my insistence on harboring you.”_

_Frey frowned. “Am I bringing you trouble?”_

_“Of course you are,” Senan said, working on the delicate curve of one of the boar’s tusks. “Wouldn’t have it anyone other way,_ Cuisle. _” He directed that proud smile to Frey. “They hear the stories of the spreading fires and they know you are one of them. They don’t know who you really are. They just see those gorgeous eyes of yours and call you a_ díabul. _”_

_Frey’s frown deepened. “What is that?”_

_“An evil thing,” Senan said. “One that brings death.” He paused. “… I would relate it best to your concept of Fenrir. The wolf that brings about the end of the realms, yeah? They are afraid of you as they are afraid of me. They believe I am slighting the gods we worship by keeping you in my home. And even more spitefully in my bed.” Senan gave him a coy look. “I’m sure they’d be even more afraid, should I present you and claim you in front of them, wouldn’t you think? Behind closed doors lies an opportunity to turn a blind eye. Out in the open? They couldn’t deny us if they tried.”_

_Frey felt his cheeks warm and reached out to tug at a lock of Senan’s hair in punishment. “Watch your words,” he said. “I don’t wish to make myself any more hated than I already am.”_

_“They don’t_ hate _you,” Senan said with a snort. “They fear you and what you will bring to us. They think you’re a wolf among the flock. They think you will bring more fair haired men and women to destroy us.”_

_“You know I will not let that happen, elskede” Frey said._

_“Of course I know,” Senan affirmed. “But they don’t.” He gestured vaguely out to the village. “Those who know I mean no harm trust me in my decision to keep you. Half of these people think I am against the gods, the other half believe I am able to speak to them as if I am kin.”_

_“It astounds me either way,” Frey said. “My mother is like you, a volva. She is revered by our people. Many would sooner relay their worries to her so she could speak with the gods directly. She was the soother of wights and descendent of the Vanir. And as she is my mother, I am that as well.” Frey shook his head. “It seems silly that your people would fear you when your reason for birth is to their benefit.”_

_“Now, I wouldn’t go that far.” Frey raised a questioning brow at Senan, who shrugged again before explaining. “I am not a benefit to them. I do not bring prayers or gifts to the gods from these people. I do not act as a medium and give no message. I am simply… more of the earth than the rest.”_

_Frey was even more confused. “Do you even believe in the strength of your own gods?”_

_Senan laughed. “_ Cuisle, _I’m not even sure I believe in them to begin with.”_

_Frey had never come across anyone like this man before._

_“It is not without consequence,” Senan said. “But… I have reasons of my own.”_

_“And what are those?”Senan grimaced. “You know what I am called— Cailleach. You relate it to the word you’ve described your mother with, a Volva. But if you really knew what Cailleach meant, you would not be so eager to draw the comparison.” Senan’s hands stopped their work. The knife was set down beside them on the wood._

_“Cailleach is a goddess,” Senan said. “Goddess of disease and plague. She is the Destroyer. She looks over the realm of the dead and welcomes them with her skeletal smile. She is the reason children die before their first breath, and why men leave families forever, rarely ever returning even as a corpse. She is the end of life and she is what I am, but not by my own choice. I… What I am is not passed down from mother to child. I killed my mother when she gave birth to me. My father was already long dead. It was the people of my old home that gave me the cursed title of Cailleach. And the name followed me to_ Doire _.”_

_Senan looked out at the village with melancholy. “If I were to tell the truth for once, I would say I want to be more like these people,” he said. “The ones who fear me. I want to be what they are. I want a family that loves me and a place that looks out for my safety just as much as they do for their neighbors. I want…” Senan trailed off for a moment. “I want to be anything but what I am. For no good can come from me.”_

_Frey reached out to the boar in Senan’s hands and gently pulled it from the other man’s grasp. Senan watched him in vague confusion, obviously waiting for Frey to explain himself as Frey held the small wooden figure. The work was expertly done, gentle curves of the wood emulating the strong muscles of the boar. A rune was carved into the left thigh of the boar, the rune_ Ingwuz _— Frey’s rune. The rest of the boar was in perfect likeness to the images Frey had seen in books, and the occasional boar he came across in his homeland. Senan had done a skillful job of keeping accuracy to an animal he had never actually seen. Frey ran his thumb over the rune._

_“Do you know what you carved?” he asked after his moment of appreciation. When Senan continued to look confused, he gesture to the rune. “This. Do you know what this is?”_

_“It’s on your belt,” Senan said, gesturing back into his home where the belt being referred to was hanging. “I’ve seen it quite a few times in the process of taking it off of you.” Senan smirked, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes. “What of it?’_

_“Do you remember what I’ve told you of my name?”_

_“Frey for Freyr,” Senan said. “A god of fertility.”_

_“More than that,” Frey said. “He is a manifestation of sacral kingship. He is the god of prosperity, sunshine, and fair weather. His purpose is to bestow peace and pleasure on mortals.” Frey smiled at the rune. The intertwining marks had always brought him a sense of pride for his name. “He is the hero god, the hero of man. He gave up his own perfect sword for love.”_

_Frey handed back the boar. Senan took it, his dark eyes full of question. As the boar passed between their hands, Frey lied his palm over Senan’s, holding on tight. “There is no possible way a cursed thing could carve something so good as_ Ingwuz _without thought,” he told Senan gently, gazing into him intently. “You are more than the name you were given in fear. Bear the title however you wish— just know that Senan isn’t the Destroyer, and he isn’t plague. He’s a good man with a skilled hand and the best intentions. You have never looked to the people of_ Doire _with ill-intent, and I know you never will. Taking me in was keeping a man from the dangers of the woods at night. The good I have found in this new land all comes from you.”_

_Senan startled when Frey drew his hands back. They stared into each other for a long moment, Senan in awe, and Frey in patience. Senan then wet his lips and said, “are you sure you are against me taking you in front of the others? Not so much out of spite anymore, but something a little more revealing.”_

_“You are insatiable,” Frey laughed, shaking his head._

_“I prefer the term dedicated, thank you,_ Cuisle. _” Senan was quiet a moment, looking over the returned boar. “I meant that,” he then murmured. “Thank you. When this boar is done, I hope you realize that you are intended to keep it with you, at all times.”_

_“Gladly,” Frey replied. “To have that with me is only second to have you at my side.”_

. . .

_”This is your home now, isn’t it?”_

_Frey looked down at the little girl that barely stood above his knee. Her eyes were as dark as Senan’s, and her red, curly hair framed her chubby cheeks. She was the first person Frey had ever seen with such red hair, and wondered how this girl could have been born from a man and a woman with brown hair like Senan’s. Her name was Ava and this wasn’t the first time she and Frey had spoken._

_“How long has it been since I arrived?” he asked her with an amused smile. He had just come back from a hunt with the warriors of_ Doire, _having recently decided to finally be of some use to this place. He felt that if he became useful and accepted, Senan would receive the same image. “A season, hasn’t it? I’m sure your mother and father have grown used to me.”_

_“I think they have,” Ava affirmed. “They’ve been talking of making a dye that matches your eyes. They want to make you something to wear. They say that the fur you have makes you seem too much like the others.”_

_Frey knew she meant the rest of Frey’s people, the_ Vikingr _burning their way through the land. He didn’t know what to say. He was glad to no longer be seen as another monster, but that still didn’t erase the fear that came from his heritage. “What do they want to make?” he asked instead._

_“A dress,” Ava said with a cheeky grin._

_Frey barked out a laugh. “A dress?”_

_“Yes. A wedding dress.”_

_“Why on earth would I need that?”_

_“For you and Senan!” she said, eyes bright. “For when he takes you to the Oathing Stone and you make your promises to one another. After all, he only ever looks for you anymore. My mother used to be scared of him. She thought he wasn’t like us. But now she knows you can feel like. That makes him human.”_

_“Senan has always been human,” Frey said, deciding not to acknowledge the whole marriage subject. He wondered if Senan ever considered it. The thought left him sad, as he knew he couldn’t give Senan the same._

_“Senan is a Cailleach,” Ava said. “Such a pretty word.” Frey found himself smiling. He was sure Ava didn’t know what the word meant, just as he had. “I hope to be there for the Oathing,” Ava continued. “We don’t have a chief, but Siohban has said that she would happily be witness. Are you going to keep the stone or return it?”_

_“I don’t think Senan and I intend on ever promising ourselves,” Frey sighed. He finally remembered he was supposed to be bringing these belts to the man in charge of preservation. What was his name again? Aiden? Alder? Something like that. “And in the same sense, I cannot take him.”_

_Ava looked unhappy. Her lower lip stuck out in an obvious pout. “Don’t you love him?”_

_“Of course I do,” Frey said, shouldering the pelt of an elk. “But marriage is more than just love.”_

_“Maybe with your people, but not us,” Ava said. “If you love someone, you make a promise. The gods witness and you keep the promise.” She skipped alongside him as he went to find Alder’s house. “That’s all there is.”_

_A simple sentiment. Frey found himself wishing his own family were like that. “I must give these to Aiden,” he told the little girl. “Run along now. I’m sure your parents are eager to have you home.”_

_“Not as happy as Senan will be to see you!” she sang before leaving Frey with the carcasses. Frey groaned softly, realizing he had forgotten to seek out Senan at all. He’d been gone for days with this hunt. He probably should have returned to Senan before anything else. What a lousy lover he was turning out to be._

_Frey turned over the pelts (and discovered the man to be named Yseult— he couldn’t have been more wrong) and went home. It was dark now. A warm fire shone through the doorway of the house. Frey trekked up the steps, preparing himself for some sort of clash. He knew word had spread that the hunting party was home. He should have gone to see the him first. Senan would have expected him hours ago._

_Sure enough, the man was leaning against the doorframe, his expression controlled. He gave away nothing when he saw Frey. Frey winced, holding his hands up in surrender. “I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “I have no excuse. You should be my first priority when coming home, and know that from now on, you will be.” Senan had always talked of his fear of seeing Frey leave_ Doire _to never return. “I should not take these absences lightly,” he continued, prepared to plead for forgiveness. “I should hold you, the man I love, above all else.”_

_Senan watched him with dark eyes before finally heaving a sigh and reaching out to take Frey by the front of his shirt. “Just get in here,” he said, letting a smile tug at his lips. “I’ve missed your skin almost as much as your voice. And while I love to hear your apologies, I’d rather have you begging for something very different right now.”_

_Frey let himself be pulled inside with a smile of his own. Maybe he’d never be able to take Senan has his in the binding sense, but he could have this moment of happiness now._

. . .

_”Do you see the fires?” Senan asked him softly from a few trees away._

_The world was dark and cold around them. Winter was settling in again, marking the year Frey had spent at Senan’s side. The snow crunched softly beneath his feet. All of the trees were hibernating now, looking close to dead. Senan moved like a ghost between the frozen trunks. Frey looked back to_ Doire _behind them— to home. He was sure they didn’t like the way Senan would disappear into the woods, but they had no reason to be suspicious. He wondered if that was why Senan liked to venture into the woods so often. After all, Senan loved to tease._

_“I see them,” he affirmed. “The feast tonight is impressive. Shouldn’t we be there?”_

_“Hardly,” Senan scoffed. “They’re meeting with chiefs from nearby villages. They want to discuss the coming threat of the Northmen.” Frey looked to him in alarm, and Senan sent him a small smile. “Don’t you fret— they know you’re no threat. If anything, you could be a sign of peace. If you can be enthralled by our small village, maybe we can be sparred. Maybe we can convince that man to stop.”_

_“Which man?” Frey asked._

_“The one leading your people,” Senan replied._

_“But what is his name?”Senan shook his head. “Not entirely sure. But he is said to be alone. Which is, of course, silly. He isn’t actually alone, they just say he is of solitude or something like that. I can’t recall the name easily, but I know how it should sound. Egil? Eerikin?”_

_“Einar,” Frey said, feeling like the air had been torn from his lungs. Senan looked to him, dark eyes calculating._

_“You know him,” Senan said, rather than asked._

_“My brother in battle,” Frey said. “The man who bore witness to my betrothal. I’ve known him as long as I have known myself.”_

_Senan didn’t respond. Frey wasn’t sure if he was left speechless by Frey’s admission to knowing the murdering Northman, or the confession that Frey was married. He knew he would have to speak first._

_“Marriage is nothing like here back home,” Frey told Senan. “It is more of a strategic decision than love. I do care for the girl, for Helle, but it was a marriage decided before we were even born.” Frey had grown his whole life knowing there was no reason in fighting what had been already decided for him. “I never intended on returning home. I knew I’d never go back to her.” He smiled bitterly. “It is difficult to be as I am among my people. Drawn in by the men more than my own wife. Einar hated me for it. It was part of the reason that I left on my own so easily.”_

_“You’re married.”_

_Senan’s voice was a broken sound among the dead trees. Frey’s jaw clenched. “Only by the law of my people,” he said. “Which is beginning to mean even less to me as each day with you passes.”_

_Senan took in a shaky breath. “You swear she means nothing?” he asked. “As cruel as this may be, you swear she is nothing next to me?”_

_“The world is ashes in comparison to you,” Frey swore to him._

_Senan let out that breath with even more shakiness. “If we go back tonight, to the feast, will you tell the chiefs what you know? Tell them about Einar and the people he leads and the weapons they have? You’ve known the man your whole life, which means you were both taught to fight, side by side, right? Will you tell them all you know?”_

__Will you betray your people for me? __

_The question remained unspoken. Frey didn’t need to even think on his answer._

_“Of course,” he said. “I will tell them anything I can to ensure your life.”_

_Senan shuddered and reached out to frame Frey’s face in his hands. He brought him close, brushing their lips together. “Thank you.”_

. . .

Felix stared into his reflection in the mirror and barely recognized himself.

Twenty-two days.

His mind was in shambles.

Every night was a different dream, a different memory that left him yearning for Jack and hating himself for what he wanted. Twenty-two nights of waking up with that pain in his chest and empty lungs and a need to see a mess of green hair beside him instead of the living room walls. He was falling to fucking pieces and everyone could see it, so he didn’t let anyone see him. Only Edgar got to be around him. He'd hide in the small recording room and he stole some of Marzia’s foundation to hide the bruises under his eyes. The scar was getting worse; it was more visible with every passing memory, and ached longer with each night.

He talked to his friends, of course. He kept up appearances. He went out at most once a week so not too many questions could be asked. He functioned as properly as he could while exhausted out of his mind, and he followed every social cue, smiling when necessary, laughing when needed, and feeling empty through all of it.

Felix avoided Jack as subtly as he could. He didn’t hang out with PJ or Brad when the Irishman was around. He knew he couldn’t be around Jack until he was absolutely sure that he’d be able to handle it, because once Felix saw Jack, he would have to be strong enough to last through a large conversation about Ériu. He was still dead set on going, purely for information, but he knew it needed to be disguised under just wanting a vacation. Felix looked like shit enough. It wasn’t like anyone would be surprised by his need for a break.

He missed Jack, though. And it went beyond the fact that Felix was being conditioned to associate Jack’s face with a feeling of unconditional love and surrender. He missed Jack, because while Felix isolated himself, he still watched videos, and he watched Jack. He watched every single video the guy put up and came to the slow realization that Jack was the only thing that could make him smile and laugh for real anymore. He was the only thing that soothed the trembling after the memories. Jack was the only thing that helped, and it made Felix feel worse. 

He felt worse because this wasn’t anything new. Jack had always been something like a stress-relief for Felix. While most of his friends were their own forces to be reckoned with, being around Jack was easy. Jack just made everything feel simple and good and a huge contrast from the stress of Felix’s everyday life. He’d been lucky to know Jack at all, and being away from him was awful (especially when Jack lived back in Ériu), so the videos had always helped. Watching Jack everyday was just a continuation of Felix’s normal routine that was only made more damning by his newly founded need to get some sort of relief. 

Marzia was avoiding him just as Felix was avoiding her. It had become apparent over the past twenty-two days that they were slowly splintering apart, and it was Felix’s fault. His infidelity would be the ruin of everything good in his life, because no good could ever come from these memories that he was being forced to watch night in, night out. 

It was day twenty-two, and Felix was a piece of shit. He had dinner plans tomorrow at Jack’s place, because going twenty-three days of this insanity just didn’t seem possible. He was going to ask about Ériu and then get Marzia on board— if she even wanted to be around him at all. He was a jackass, but Felix knew there wasn’t any other way. He wasn’t good at being Felix when he was so tired, and Felix had a lot of secrets to accidentally spill in the midst of his exhaustion. It just wasn’t safe. And he could only turn down her help so many times before she started to think that he was just a problem that didn’t want to be fixed.

. . .

“Do you even want to do this?” Marzia asked him from the driver’s seat. She had parked on the side of the road, Jack’s home in front of them. She wasn’t happy with Felix. He’d asked her about going to Ériu on the way here, and she’d only shaken her head, saying that he needed to stop running from whatever was keeping him awake at night. “We can always cancel. You’ve avoided him enough. One more night won’t be much.”

Her words cut, but he knew he deserved them. He’d been an asshole to basically everyone that mattered. He’d even been ignoring Mark. “I wanna do this,” he mumbled. He felt weak. He could barely lift his hands from his lap. His head felt like it weighed as much as an elephant. He was so tired that he almost wanted to die. 

Felix shook his head. That was a stupid thought, one that seeing Jack would help. “I’m sorry,” he told Marzia. “I really am. I-I know I haven’t been myself lately, but I’m trying to fix it.”

“Why won’t you let me help?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Felix shook his head. “I can’t,” he said uselessly. “I just can’t.”

She looked ahead, keeping a stiff upper lip, and nodded. “What can help?” she asked.

“Ériu,” he said. “I think.”

Marzia looked confused, but didn’t press. “Let’s go in,” she said. “I’m sure Seán’s made something delicious.”

The sound of that name almost made Felix flinched, but he denied himself the weakness, and nodded. Getting out of the car was a real fucking struggle with how tired he was. Marzia watched him, knowing better than to offer help at how Felix stumbled. It was hard to keep his balance these days. She went up the stairs and knocked, letting Felix take his time in figuring out how to walk again after the drive. The front door opened, and Marzia was greeted by a familiar, booming voice that definitely shouldn’t be there. Felix looked up at the steps, wide eyed, half hoping that Mark was just some hallucination. Especially with how the rune _Nauthis_ shone brilliantly above Mark’s head. Felix couldn’t imagine how this turn of events could be necessary, though it was decidedly painful. 

Mark greeted Marzia and waved her inside, but the smile he’d been wearing fell away the moment he looked down the stairs at Felix. Felix was shaking. He felt even more stupid. Felix cast his eyes down to the concrete, knowing that he deserved whatever Mark was about to say to him. Felix couldn’t make himself look up, though. He just fucking couldn’t. He heard Mark heave a sigh.

“You look awful,” Mark told him. Felix didn’t respond. “Really, Felix? The silent treatment seems a little less juvenile via texting, but face to face? This isn’t third grade, dude.”

“What’re you doing here?” Felix asked, hating how his voice shook. 

“I’m here because I’m worried about you.”

Felix shook his head, eyes still trained downwards. “You think I’m crazy.”

“Of course I do,” Mark agreed. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t care. Definitely doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you getting hurt. If anything, it just makes my worry even more justified.” Felix heard Mark move down the steps. He saw the man’s shoes in front of him. Felix still couldn’t look up. Shame curled low in his gut at the cowardice of his avoidance. He was a fucking asshole. “Felix, hey,” Mark said, softening his tone. Felix was disgusted with himself. He was so far gone that Mark was talking to him like he was some sort of wounded animal. Mark wasn’t really wrong to see Felix as that, but that still didn’t mean Felix had to like it. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Mark asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Felix choked out. “It’s a mess, Mark. I’m so sorry that I brought you into this, I never should’ve told you.” He finally looked up, and saw Mark was watching him with pity. Or was it sadness? Felix couldn’t tell. 

“You shouldn’t be sorry for turning to a friend for help,” Mark told him.

“I can and I will. I-I’m not crazy, Mark, what’s wrong with my head goes so far beyond anything that you would ever be okay with knowing. I never should’ve told you, a-and I’m sorry. I’m going to fix it on my own.”

“You don’t _have_ to do it alone,” Mark said.

“No, I think I do,” Felix corrected quickly. “Wouldn’t want people calling me fucking crazy every step of the way. Makes it a little hard to focus.”

Mark looked even worse. Felix finally recognized his expression as one of regret. Did Mark regret calling Felix crazy? Or was it something else? “Why won’t you let anyone help you?” Mark asked.

“Because no one can,” Felix replied. “Can I go inside now?”

Mark shook his head, but stepped aside regardless. Felix moved forward, but ended up moving too quickly. His head swam and he swayed dangerously. He felt Mark’s hand on his shoulder and then on his waist as his knees gave out. 

“Felix, shit,” Mark said into Felix’s ear. 

“’S fine, it’s fine,” Felix said, even though he still couldn’t stand. “Happens, ’s fine.”

“This does not look fine, Felix, you need a doctor.” Mark’s voice sounded so steady for the way he was holding Felix tightly enough to feel like an embrace. For a second, Felix allowed himself to sink into the touch. He hadn’t let himself be around other people for long, let alone come into contact with them. Mark was so warm. He was so very alive. Felix soaked in his touch and readied himself to unwillingly pull away. Mark’s grip remained tight, even when Felix pulled back. Mark didn’t want to let him go, probably for fear of him collapsing again.

“I’m not sleeping,” Felix said in way of a weak excuse. “I’m sorry.”

“Fucking christ,” Mark breathed, shaking his head. He took a reluctant step back. “Are you sure you know how to fix this?”

“Don’t take stairs too quick, don’t stand up too fast, power nap as often as possible, and stay hydrated.”

“This has been going on too long,” Mark said firmly. 

“I told you, I’m working on it.” Fuck, Felix still felt a little like he was going to pass out. He probably needed to eat. Eating was the second most important thing next to drinking water to help him function. “I’m hungry,” he said. “I’m guessing you and Jack have dinner almost ready, right?” A shot of jealousy went through his chest at the idea of Jack and Mark along together. He didn’t know how long Mark had been here. He would say that they could’ve gotten up to anything if he didn’t know that Mark and Jack basically condemned that ship these days. 

“We’ll get you some food,” Mark sighed, resting a hand on Felix’s back. He was steadying Felix. Making sure he didn’t fall again. Felix actually appreciated it. He leaned into the touch again and sent Mark a shaky smile of gratitude. Mark returned it with his eyes full of concern. “Don’t take stairs too quickly, right?” He led Felix up and into the house that was so fucking warm. It filled Felix’s body with some weird sense of peace that he’d never felt when entering a regular home before. Of course, this wasn’t just any regular home— this was Jack’s house. Felix grimaced. 

He could only see the kitchen, dining, and living room from the foyer, and there were stairs just to his left. He’d been here countless times before, but something felt different now. He saw Marzia setting the table, and Mark went to help her, his hand leaving Felix’s back. Felix leaned against the nearest wall to keep his balance, and avoided locking his knees. 

“Seán’s upstairs,” Mark said as he grabbed plates. “We’re eating shepherd’s pie! Seán made most of it, used a ton of corn and potatoes. I was impressed he could cook anything at all. Especially since he drank, like, two fucking beers while just bowling the water.”

“It was as fun as it sounds!” a girl exclaimed from the kitchen. Felix leaned around the corner and saw Amy. He tensed, shoulders hunching. This would be even harder to handle with a near-stranger around. Not that Amy wasn’t the sweetest little thing alive— Felix just didn’t know her well enough to do much of anything. He worked his jaw.

“Felix, go sit down,” Mark said firmly, gesturing to the table. 

“You look awful,” Amy observed.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well,” Marzia murmured. She sent Felix a look from under her hair, then nodded to the table as well. “You should sit.” She sounded a lot more annoyed than anything.

Felix rolled his eyes, then dragged his feet to the dining table, mostly so he wouldn’t lose his balance from lifting his legs too high. He pulled out a chair and sat, facing the kitchen and stairs so he could at least watch and let himself acknowledge how much of a useless asshole he was by being unable to even set a fucking table. Felix rested his head in his left hand, listless.

“Do you need anything?” Amy asked him, endearing as ever. She approached him with a cautious smile and a glass of water. When he didn’t answer (because his brain was working too slowly), she pressed. “You just seem pretty tired. I’m sure Seán wouldn’t care if you lied down on the couch or something, right? Do you need something to drink? Maybe some coffee?”

“She’s telling you in the nicest way possible that you look like absolute shit, and it’s making her worried,” Mark said.

“Who looks like shit?” came a voice from the stairs. “Are they here?”

Felix looked up and felt like a weight was lifted from his chest as Jack came down the stairs. 

There weren’t words to describe what it was like to see him. Felix couldn’t remember Jack ever looking like this to him, like he taking up the entire room with his smile alone. Felix’s eyes watched every little move of Jack’s body like a hawk, the clench of his legs as he went down the stairs, the touch of Jack’s hand to the way to steady himself, the way his eyes swept the room, seeking someone out. When Jack’s eyes fell on Felix, it was like light had exploded in Felix’s heart. He swore the sun got a little brighter. 

And the runes— they danced around Jack, circling his head like a halo. Wunjo for light and pure joy, _Jera_ for success, _Kano_ for clarity, _Berkana_ for growth, _Dagaz_ for transformation, _Raidho_ for reunion, _Sowilu_ for vitality and the sun. All of these runes shone around Jack, signatures of prosperity and contentment. 

Felix couldn’t help but stare. He just gazed into Jack and finally felt at peace, even as his heart raced with nerves he could only relate to looking on someone you love and knowing it had to be kept a secret. The thrill of hidden affection and the anxiety of being turned away. Felix wanted to reach out and touch. He wanted to draw Jack into his arms and kiss him like he'd seen Frey do for Senan. He wanted to make Jack feel like he was the only thing in the world that could matter. He wanted to make Jack feel loved. 

Jack walked to stand in front of Felix, and it was like he was moving in slow motion. Felix watched, entranced, as Jack’s lips worked around words that Felix couldn't hear. Felix took in the way Jack’s shoulders and chest filled out the shirt he was wearing, the way those black jeans hugged his legs. Even his hands were something Felix had to marvel over— long, pale fingers that rested at his side. Felix drew his eyes back up to that face, though, and found himself relieved to look into that deep blue rather than dark. He watched Jack’s lips again as he continued to speak. Jack sounded like he was underwater. Did he look scared?

“Your hand, Felix!”

Mark’s voice broke through before Jack’s, and he jumped. “What?”

“Yer fuckin’ hand!” Jack cried out, kneeling down in front of Felix. Felix looked down at his hand and saw that it was dripping blood. He watched, only half awake, as the blood ran down his fingers and onto the floor. How had that happened? “Fuck, Felix, the fuck is this?” Jack demanded, taking Felix’s hand in his own. The touch warmed Felix like a fire, and only barely helped ease the shock Felix felt when he saw the long cut that ran down the middle of his palm. It was in the exact same spot that Senan had sliced open Frey’s hand. “Did ye’ do this to yerself?”

Felix looked up from his hand to Jack and lost himself in that awful blue again. He couldn’t answer, he just gaped. _Sowilu_ was nearly blinding him, centered on Jack’s forehead like a branding or a blessing. He looked down to where Jack was touching him and saw Jack’s fingers glowed with _Wunjo_. His own skin was pressed against the rune, and Felix was in awe with how the rune didn’t burn. If anything, it was numbing him, because he still couldn’t feel how his hand was sliced open. Felix looked back up to Jack, and their gazes locked together. The blue stole Felix’s breath and he felt like he was flying. Jack’s lips were moving again. Felix couldn’t hear a word.

Then there were hands grabbing him by the shoulders, and Mark was literally dragging Felix into the bathroom. Mark was pale, his face ashen, like he’d seen someone die. Felix still kind felt like he was flying, so being dragged to the bathroom felt a little like he was moving through the ocean. He couldn’t feel his limbs. _Sowilu_ still burned in his eyes.

Then Felix was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and the sound of the bathroom door being slammed shut by Mark startled him out of the haze that felt more than a little like being drugged. He couldn’t breathe again, but this time, it wasn’t the good sort of breathless that had come with seeing Jack. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, clutching at his chest with the bloodied, fucked hand. It suddenly stung, and he let out an embarrassing whimper. The sight of his blood covering his entire fucking hand made his stomach churn. He was shaking like he’d been left out in a snowstorm. “It hurts,” he choked out, still struggling to breathe. “Mark, w-what the fuck happened? Holy fuck, _it fucking hurts._ ” His vision swam with flashing lights and he was worried he was going to pass out. He reached out blindly as he felt himself start to fall backwards.

“Jesus christ, Felix.” 

Mark’s voice was almost as warm as the hand that took Felix by the front of his shirt to keep him from falling into the tub. Felix felt like he was blinking in and out of existence, because Mark had been by the sink at one point, and now he was crouched in front of Felix. God, he looked so scared. Felix felt fucking awful.

“Did you see it?” he asked, holding onto Mark’s sleeve. “You did, right?” All of those runes moving around Jack like he was a planet and the runes were moons. God, he couldn’t get the sight out of his head. It was like seeing angels.

“All I saw was you staring at Jack like you’d seen a ghost, and then your hand start spouting blood like a fucking faucet,” Mark said. His voice was so tense, like he was angry. Felix wasn’t sure if he was angry at him, or maybe just what was happening. Felix wished he could be angry. It probably felt a lot better than helpless. “God, Felix, this is almost to the bone.” Felix didn’t answer, only winced as Mark inspected the deep cut. “Jack’s bringing a first aid kit,” Mark said. “Were you staring at him like that for any good reason? Because you freaked him out. You freaked _me_ out. You looked like you were possessed or something, it was…” Mark trailed off, shaking his head. 

“He was surrounded by lights,” Felix said, feeling like he owed Mark a little bit of the truth. “He looked like a god or something ethereal. He, he was…” Felix wet his lips. “He was beautiful, Mark. I-I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my fucking mind because I know what’s happening and I know what I need to do, but that doesn’t stop Jack from looking like the most gorgeous thing in the fucking world, and I think I’m a terrible person.”

“How did you cut your hand, Felix?” Mark asked, thankfully just breezing past Felix’s confession. They could deal with Felix’s identity crisis later. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

“I didn’t,” Felix said. “Senan did.”

“Senan?” Mark repeated. “The guy from your fucking dreams? Felix, he didn’t cut you, that’s literally—”

“He cut open his own, and then Frey’s palm, exactly like this back then,” Felix said, choosing to just ignore Mark’s denial. “It was some ritual that would connect them even after they died. I’m not surprised that this happened, though it is a little weird that it’s more than a scar.”

“More than a scar?” Mark repeated, sounding more incredulous each time. “What the fuck do you—”

Felix used his good hand to lift up the bottom of his shirt. Mark trailed off in shock when he saw the raised, pink scar across Felix’s torso. It was about three inches long now, and half an inch across. It was an obvious stab wound by something huge and sharp, like a knife or a sword. Felix actually didn’t mind the scar, though it was difficult to hide. The scar had been reassuring, constant proof that he wasn’t making these memories up. 

“I got it a few weeks ago,” he told Mark. “I think it has something to do with Frey and Senan, but I haven’t figured out what. The scar gets even more fresh with every memory, and it hurts, too, like I’m being stabbed, but it’s never actually bled before or done anything like my hand is right now.” Even though it fucking hurt, he couldn’t help but bask at the wound in his hand. It really was in the exact same spot as where Frey had been cut. 

Mark sat back, shaking his head. “This isn’t possible,” he said. “This isn’t fucking possible.”

“Look, I got past the denial stage twenty-two days ago, I’d appreciate it if we just kinda moved past yours within the next five minutes so we can focus on something a little more important. Like how I’m suddenly getting marks from the memories when I’m awake.” Felix kept looking over the cut. “Maybe it’s because I saw Jack? He had so many runes— maybe he kickstarted something.”

“Felix, you don’t understand,” Mark said. “This isn’t fucking possible.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t keep it from happening.” Been there, done that, after all. “Point is, I didn’t cut myself, Mark. You were there. I had nothing to cut myself on. This is the exact same cut as from Frey’s memories, where Senan did the same thing to himself so they could do some witch thing.” A thought occurred. “What if Jack has the same cut now?”

“Can you please stop talking?” Mark asked. 

The bathroom door opened, and Jack rushed in, holding a kit in his hand. He looked just as scared as Mark, but god, there was still the rune of the sun floating in front of Jack’s forehead like some sort of crown, and he was still so gorgeous. Felix felt the pain in his hand melt away again. He lowered his shirt before Jack could see the scar and smiled up at the other man, wanting to wash away his concerns. He probably looked like a lovestruck fool, but Jack seemed to be bringing out those feelings in him lately. 

“I have bandages,” Jack said, kneeling beside Mark. Felix flushed, because only now did he realize how good Jack looked on his knees in front of him. Jack opened the kit and pulled out antiseptic. “Shit, Fe’, do ye’ need stitches?” When Felix didn’t respond, Jack looked to Mark. “Does he need stitches, Mark?” And when Mark didn’t answer, Jack looked between them in obvious bewilderment. “The fuck is happening? Mark, why’re ye’ so freaked?” Mark just looked up at Felix, his eyes saying a lot more than he could find words for. Felix met his gaze and they reached a silent understanding. Don’t tell Jack. 

“He probably should get stitches, but I doubt he’ll go for it,” Mark said. “If you’ve got butterfly bandaids, we can probably work around him being a stubborn fucking asshole.”

“Mark!” Jack exclaimed, shocked. “What the fuck, don’t call him that! He’s fuckin’ hurt!” Mark just shook his head. “Jesus, Fe’, gimme yer hand,” Jack ordered. The rune was gone from Jack’s palm, so Felix didn’t hesitate in doing as asked. God, Jack’s touch was even better than Mark’s. Felix smiled again. There was no pain when Jack was touching him. “I’ve got butterfly bandaids,” Jack said. “They’re decorated like actual butterflies. What, what kind do ye’ want, Fe’? A monarch? Or a purple one?” Jack was freaking out, fumbling with the bandaids, rambling mumbled words. Felix’s heart melted. 

“Whichever is your favorite,” he said, his first discernible sentence to Jack in what had to be almost a month. “You pick.” He sent Jack a reassuring smile. Jack just looked even more bewildered as he brought out two weird looking bandaids that really did look like butterflies. 

“Felix, how did this happen?” Jack asked as he grabbed a washcloth to clean the blood from Felix’s hand. “This is gonna sting, sorry.” Jack poured hydrogen peroxide over the cut, careless of whatever spilled onto the tiled floor. Felix didn’t even flinch. Jack’s eyes were just so blue and he loved that they weren’t the same as Senan’s. “Did ye’ do this on purpose?” Jack asked, his voice tight.

“Course not,” Felix said. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” Jack only looked barely consoled by that. “Go to Ériu with me, Jack.” Okay, that wasn’t part of the plan. Definitely not part of the plan, but he’d already said it, right? No turning back now. 

“The fuck is Ériu?” Jack asked. Felix blinked slowly, unable to understand the question.

“Ireland,” Mark said for him. “It’s, it’s another word for Ireland. It’s Gaelic or something, he's been reading a lot of history stuff for whatever reason.” God fucking bless Mark, jesus. “Apparently, he’s planning a trip.” Mark was watching Felix, waiting for Felix to tell him he was wrong. Good thing he wasn’t. “A trip that I’m going on,” Mark said, and okay, maybe Felix should say something to deny that, except the idea of Mark coming along didn’t actually sound half bad. It wasn’t like Mark could deny the existence of a scar magically appearing on Felix’s body. Maybe Mark would stop calling him crazy. 

“You’re goin’ to Ireland, and ye’ didn’t tell me?” Jack looked a little hurt as he continued to work. “Could give ye’ the grand tour!”

“I’m asking you now,” Felix said, still fucking smiling. It was like he couldn’t wipe the expression off his face with Jack around. “Will you please go with us?”

Jack bit his lip. “Why do ye’ wanna go?”

“Look at me, Jack,” Felix said, letting his shoulders drop. “I’m a disaster. I-I need a break before I fall apart at the seams. But I don’t want to be without my friends, and I feel like going to Éri— t-to Ireland would be the best place to go. You would be willing to come with if I’m going there. Mark too.” Mark was going to help Felix find answers. “I know it’s kinda short notice, c-cause I really wanna leave in the next couple days, for obvious reasons, but will you please come with? I just, I need to get away from some stuff, and I need you guys there with me.” He looked to Mark as he said this, wanting Mark to know that he needed Mark just as much as Jack, just in a different way. “It’ll be fun, Jack,” he pressed. “I promise.”

Jack looked really reluctant to agree. Felix was sure Jack would’ve turned him down if Felix wasn’t slumped in his bathroom with a bleeding hand and bruises under his eyes. 

“Give me three days,” Jack said. “Mark, you’re staying till then?”

“Course I am,” Mark said. “I’ve got to help Felix plan for the trip.”

“Did ye’ both have this planned all along?” Jack asked with a sigh as he used the bandaids to pull the edges of the wound together. “Fuckin’ hell, was this fucking doozy of a cut part of the plan too? Ye’ve both gone bonkers.”

“Or something like that,” Mark mumbled. 

“I’ll go,” Jack said. “I just need three days.”

Felix’s smiled wavered. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he lied. Mark was looking at him like he knew better. It wasn’t that Felix didn’t think Jack needed those threes days, it was that he didn’t think he’d last that long. But he would if he had to. “Thank you,” he told Jack, his heart on his sleeve for a split second. Jack’s expression shuddered. He knew something was wrong. 

“Of course, Fe’,” he said solemnly, wrapping Felix’s hand with more care than Felix had ever seen him use before. “Of course.”

. . .

 _”What are you not telling me?” Senan asked after finding Frey standing at the outskirts of_ Doire _, looking out into the pitch black night. Frey had been coming out here to watch every night for the past few days. He had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t manage to shake. He’d learned long ago to listen to those feelings. While he wasn’t_ Volva _, he was the son of such a person. He could feel things others couldn’t— he could see omens that most remained blind to. Frey couldn’t name what was coming, but he knew it was coming nonetheless._

_“It’s nothing,” Frey said, barely tearing his eyes away from the nothingness to glance at Senan. “Just a feeling. I’m more than likely wrong.”_

_Senan stood beside him, stone faced. “… Teach me something that I don’t know about you.”_

_Frey pursed his lips. “There isn't much left that you haven’t already learned,” he hedged as he struggled to think of something. “You know of my wife. You know of my upbringing and my father and mother. You even know my gods.”_

_“I do,” Senan said. “Tell me about your name.”_

_“You know of my name.”_

_“I know of the god,” Senan corrected. “I don’t know if you feel like you live up to him.”_

_Frey grimaced. “It’s not like I ever could,” he sighed. “No man can measure up to the hero of man. He is fertility and strength. He gave up his sword for the woman he loved and died in battle, in_ Ragnarok. _There is not much he has done that is achievable by man.”_

_Senan nodded. “My name means brightness,” he said. “In a way, I suppose that is an easier thing to be named. I’m sure I would’ve managed to live up to it had I been born any other way.”_

_“Nonsense,” Frey chided. “You’re the brightest sun in my life.”_

_Senan pushed him, a shy smile tugging at his lips with a faint blush. “Tell me of_ Ragnarok _, then. What does it mean?”_

_“It is the cycle of life and death,” Frey told him. “Even as the strongest of gods fall, they are reborn. With ever cycle of the seasons, the gods die and are born again. There is not much else to it, save the idea that everything is endless. Not even death can keep us back.”_

_“So you believe you will be reborn?” Senan asked._

_“Maybe.” Frey shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know I will be in_ Valhalla _, so long as I die with honor.”_

_“And are you okay with that?”_

_Frey frowned. “Of being in_ Valhalla? _Why would I not? It’s paradise.”_

_Senan shook his head. “Are you okay with me not be able to be with you?”_

_Frey felt cold all over. “… Senan—”_

_“Your gods would never accept me, even if I were to try my best to convert,” Senan said. “I know that we made our promise in blood, but if death is so stubborn that it wishes to draw us away from one another by the will of the gods, then no magic I can twist will ever be able to fight that. Your gods will take you away from me.”_

_Frey reached down and took Senan’s hand in his own. Their scars pressed together. Senan squeezed tight enough to hurt. Frey couldn’t think of the right thing to say._

_“It is hopeless to dream,” Senan said. “We’re nothing more than slaves to the very beings the we have worshipped.” He pulled his hand away and disappeared back into the village, leaving Frey alone in the dark._

. . .

“You look terrible,” was the first thing Mark said to him on the plane. “I appreciate being avoided again.”

“Figured you’d want time to think of what I showed you,” Felix said, his eyes trained out the window at the ocean below them. It was only an hour and a half into Dublin. Felix had the window seat with Mark beside him, because Marzia didn’t want to be near him right now, so she was across the aisle with Jack and Amy. The engine covered up the sound of Felix’s and Mark’s conversation. Felix leaned listlessly against the body of the plane. “Still think I’m crazy, Mark?”

“Something’s definitely fucking crazy, but I’m starting to think it isn’t you,” Mark huffed. “Even if you were doing something as terrible as self mutilation, there’s no way you could have a scar that’s been healed for so long. Unless you planned this a year ago, but I really don’t think you’ve been this unstable for that long.”

Felix smiled sardonically. “Of course. Cause everyone knows I’m just rearing to stab myself in the stomach.”

“Hence, why you’re not the crazy thing that’s happening here.” Mark looked down at the bag of chips he’d brought on board as a snack. It was open, but Mark wasn’t eating. “Do you really think going to Ireland will help?” 

“Was I really calling it Ériu the whole time?” Felix asked. “How weird is that?”

“Felix, what does going there help?”

“Everything that happened in the memories happened there,” Felix said, realizing Mark wouldn’t let him bullshit. “I know where _Doire_ used to be, so I think, if I can get there, then maybe I’ll find out something to help me. Something to shut off the memories, you know? If anything’s going to fix me, it’s going to be out there.”

Mark nodded. “And dragging Jack along?”

Felix hesitated and clenched his injured hand so it stung. He knew if he looked to the Irishman across the aisle, he would see _Sowilu_ glowing brightly. While all the other runes had eventually faded away, that single rune stubbornly remained attached to Jack. It was almost as hard to tear his eyes from as Jack’s fucking face. “I need to,” Felix said, at a loss. “I just do. I-I feel out of my mind except when he’s there.” The last three days had been hell, since Felix could only text between his friends. Hearing Jack’s voice and not seeing him in person made his body ache. “It’s wrong,” he mumbled. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Mark shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. What you’re going through is hard enough. Don’t weigh yourself down with guilt on top of it.”

Felix grimaced and stared resolutely out the window again. 

Mark sighed. “How about you try to get some rest, Felix? I’ll wake you up if you start acting like you’re dreaming. I know the signs. I won’t… I won’t let anything happen.”

Felix swallowed hard. “I would really appreciate that.” He hadn’t let himself fall asleep last night. He was wired from the coffee he’d been living off of the past forty-eight hours. “Don’t… don’t let them see anything. Please. And wake me up if I start talking.”

Mark nodded. He took Felix by the arm and gently coaxed him over so Felix’s head was resting on Mark’s shoulder rather than the plane. “Much more comfortable,” Mark murmured. “Wouldn’t want you to wake up with a crick in your neck on top of everything else.” Felix didn’t have words for how grateful he was for this tiniest gesture. Even through Mark’s accusations, he still cared about Felix.

Just before closing his eyes, Felix chanced one last glance across the aisle. He caught Jack staring at him and Mark with the oddest expression. The second Felix met his eyes, Jack looked away, like he felt guilty for being caught. Even though Felix didn’t understand, Jack was cute when he was embarrassed. It made him smile as he settled down to try and get some sort of sleep.

. . .

_”Do they still hate me?” Senan asked from where he lied beside Frey across the furs, in front of their small, personal fire in their home. Frey had his arm around Senan’s bare shoulders, they bodies pressed together. Senan’s nose was pushed into the juncture of Frey’s neck and shoulder. “Do they see me as a monster?”_

_“They see you as mine,” Frey said, turning his lips into Senan’s hair to press a kiss into the top of his head. “And me as yours. With time, they’ll see us as nothing more than an extension of one another.” He looked past their bodies to the finely carved boar standing proudly atop the table. “Make an oath with me,” Frey murmured. He felt Senan tense._

_“Your wife…”_

_“Has and will always mean nothing,” Frey said. “I may be as good as dead to my family. You’re what matters, elskede. Let me promise myself to you.”_

_“We must be witnessed.”_

_“The gods can witness for all I care,” Frey said. “I want your promise, and I want to give you mine. Won’t you let me?”_

_Senan was quiet for a moment. “… Come spring,” he finally said. “I want my oath to you to be a time of renewal and life. Winter is not the time for such a promise to be made. But spring… With the flowers and the birds. Then we can trade oaths.”_

_Frey smiled wider than he wanted to admit and placed another kiss to the top of Senan’s head. “I love you.”_

_Senan slapped weakly at his chest. They were both relaxed and warm from the fire and one another. “Quit your talking,” Senan murmured, sounding embarrassed. “Let me sleep.” There was the sound of a smile in his voice, nonetheless. “I love you, Frey.”_

_Frey lied back, excitement brimming in his chest. Come spring, he would make his oath. Come spring._

. . .

Castlepollard was a small town in Westmeath county that Jack repeatedly claimed to have never heard of. The hotel was a little B’n’B that had doilies on all the furniture, and quilts on every bed. Their host was a lovely young woman and her sister, both of them working hard to accommodate all of their guests. Felix took a long, warm shower, barely able to stand, while the others mingled downstairs. 

He didn’t know where to go from here— bringing so many people along was suddenly a mistake. Felix didn’t know how he was going to learn anything while watching his back the whole time. Maybe Mark could lend him a hand? Felix rubbed tiredly at his face and swayed a little. God, he needed to ditch his friends and it made him feel like even more shit. He wished he could tell the truth— like that was fucking possible. Felix stumbled out of the shower without even washing off. He’d just needed the water to feel more alive. Felix got dressed and went downstairs. 

“There’s a fuckin’ festival tonight!” Jack exclaimed in excitement the moment he saw Felix. Felix’s heart got caught in his throat with the way Jack’s eyes had lit up. “Didja plan this, Fe’?” he asked with a wide. “Some cultural thing, it’s fuckin’ awesome!” Felix looked past Jack and saw Mark was staring at him oddly. 

“A celebration of heritage,” the young woman who was running the B’n’B said with a amicable smile in Felix’s direction. “Just east of the town is the Mullaghmeem woods and the ruins of the village that stood at the edge of those woods over a thousand years ago. We celebrate it once a year after All Saint’s Day, dependin’ on the weather. It really is a sight. Dancing and food and music— it’d do ye’ good to stick around, at least for tonight.”

“Could you tell us the name of that town again?” Mark asked, still watching Felix. “The one that’s gone?”

“ _Doire_ ,” the woman hummed. “Named for the woods.” Felix looked to Mark in shock. There was no way he was that lucky. It had to be some sort of sign. Images of the village flashed through his mind, familiar and comforting, the people and the smells and the sounds. The way Frey had painstakingly learned every name of ever person there, and the way he’d helped repair roofs, catch game, and do random chores. He could hear the squeals of laughter from the children as they hung off of his—Frey’s arms, asking for a game, asking for a treat, asking to be told a story.

“Felix.”

He jumped, only just registering Jack standing a foot in front of his face. _Sowilu_ was a beacon. Behind him, Amy and Mark looked on in concern. “Uh, hey,” Felix greeted weakly, feeling like he was half asleep. “What’s up?” He gave Jack a crooked grin, wanting to alleviate his worries.

“Where’d ye’’ go just now?” Jack asked, not smiling back. 

“He’s tired,” Mark said, stepping in. “Let’s just go have fun. The festivities have already begun over by the woods, so we’ll just go there. I’m sure a cool party like this will help with getting our feet back on the ground.” Mark pulled Felix away from Jack and towards the door. “Let’s get historical!” Mark cried out. They were outside before anyone else. “We’re going to those ruins, or whatever’s left, and we’re figuring this stuff out,” Mark told Felix while they were alone. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Thank you,” Felix said sincerely. “I, I’m so fucking lucky to have you here, Mark. Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” Mark said. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? Any one of us would do this for you.”

“Not this,” Felix denied, shaking his head. “This goes beyond all that shit. No friend is ever expected to carry the other person through fucking insane reincarnation shit with nightmares and vikings. That’s not a thing friends do.”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe you’ve just had shitty friends.” Felix didn’t know what to say. “Let’s find you some answers. Any idea which direction we’re supposed to be going?” Felix didn’t really understand the modern town, but he knew the ground beneath his feet. He could see where the ground curved upwards, recognized the large rocks that signified the beginning of property from years ago. He knew exactly where they needed to go. So Felix just started walking. He knew Mark would follow, if only to keep him from tipping over.

“This is crazy,” Mark muttered behind him. “Do you just, like, know all of this? Do you see, like, signs or something that tell you were to go?”

“No,” Felix said, shaking his head as he moved out of the town and into the much more familiar grass. He knew his memories had been from centuries ago, but he could trick himself into believing that these were the very same blades of grass he’d walked through a few nights ago in his mind’s eye. “I’ve been here enough to know where I am,” he said. He led Mark away from the town, treetops becoming visible in the distance the further they went. Felix could see structures from here as well— houses made of wood, decorated with color, and people milling about. He found himself smiling as the sounds of the modern town faded behind him while the sounds of celebration came from before them. Excitement filled his chest and he felt awake. 

Felix passed more and more people the closer he got to _Doire_. They all smiled at him, all of them looked like they welcomed him. It made sense, after all— he’d been here for so long. He reached the edge of the village and looked up in delight at the colorful banners that hung from the rooftops. He’d never seen dyes so bright. _Ava’s parents had done so well._ There was food being sold from in front of homes, and Mark only barely caught up with Felix, looking around while trying to keep an eye on Felix at the same time. 

Felix laughed and waved to a little girl that was dressed in the whitest clothes he’d ever seen. She was kicking happily along to music that was being played further into the village. She jumped down and ran up to him, taking his hand and asking him something about singing to her. 

_“Of course I’ll sing to you,” Frey said with a wide smile. “Go find your mother first.”_

Mark pulled him back, his brow furrowed. Felix couldn’t stop smiling, though, and wouldn't let Mark’s freaking out mess this up. “C’mon, dude!” he insisted, taking Mark by the hand wanting to keep moving. The cut in his palm stung. “Siobhan worked really hard on all of this, we’ve got to at least hang around for a little while.”

“Felix—”

“I wonder if Angus actually ever got that fish he’d been bragging to serve,” Felix continued, moving Mark through the village with practiced ease. He waved back at two more children that were crouched around one of the fires, eating fruit. “He kept saying he’d catch something, even though he hates the feeling of fish scales. _Ek skil þat eigi._ ”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Let’s go!” Felix insisted, pulling him in deeper. A woman moved around him, a girl Felix didn’t know. Several other villages had banded together to celebrate today, so he wasn’t surprised to see any unfamiliar faces. “Senan said he’d wait for me,” he told Mark. “We need—”

They reached the center of town, the bonfire here reaching higher than all the others. Men and woman dressed in furs and feathers danced around the fire, chanting and singing their songs. _Frey gasped in delight when he recognized what they were singing, and pulled away from whoever’s hand he was holding to join the dances._ They greeted Felix with little confusion and let Felix dance with them.

_Frey easily matched up to their rhythm— he’d learned these moves long ago, during the first Samhain he’d spent here. Frey danced through the dirt, his steps lighter than air. He’d always been told he danced better than the kids who’d been learning since they could walk. Frey laughed as the man beside him took him by the arm and shouted wildly into the air. Their breath floated above their heads._

_“Sing with us!” the girl to_ Felix’s right exclaimed. She took him by the hips and pulled him into the dance again. She looked surprised that he knew the steps so well. Felix took her by the hand and span her around, reveling in her squeal of delight. He’d always loved making the people here smile. “Sing with us!” The fire burned hot as they danced a little closer to the fire than they should.

Felix threw his head back and sang the last of the lyrics that were being chanted around him. “Fuair sé amach gur cosa cré a bhí ar an laoch aige!” _Frey chanted with the people around him. He spun with the group and continued their dance with ease. “Níor lú de laoch é dá bharr, tháinig céad bliain d’aois air in aon lá amháin!” they all sang together, hands clapping in the air to the beat that was laid out by the drums. A benn crot that Frey hadn’t heard before played merrily behind him. The fire rose higher and higher, and so did their voices, refusing to be outdone._

_“Is é an t-údar maíte atá aige nár chaill sé riagg! Go dtí dhiútlaigh sé suco scan bualadh linn!” Frey chanted with the man and woman. On another spin, his blue eyes caught dark ones. Frey’s heart lurched in his chest at seeing Senan. “Cé eile ach amadán a dhéanfadh a leithéid?” Frey finished, pulling from the dancing group to still in front of Senan. He smiled breathlessly before leaning in to press their lips together, much to the delight of the dancers._

_When Frey pulled back, blue eyes were in front of him, wide with shock._

_“Senan?” he said, thrown off by the way Senan looked like he’d been slapped rather than kissed. Frey reached up and brushed Senan’s cheek with his fingertips. Then Senan’s lips moved, but Frey couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Hvat segir þú?”_

_“Felix?” Senan said, his voice trembling._

_Frey frowned. “Who’s Felix?” There was movement to Senan’s left, and Frey saw a man he’d never seen before standing there. He had darker skin than Frey was used to, and exotic eyes that were as black as the stranger’s hair. For a moment, Frey worried than Senan had been threatened. “Who is this man?”_

__“Felix, what do you see?” _the stranger asked. Frey’s brow furrowed. He didn’t understand the language that had come from this stranger’s mouth._ ”You need to come back to us, Felix. __

_“Who on earth is Felix?” Frey demanded, looking back to Senan with concern. “Senan, what’s wrong?” The blue eyes were unfamiliar, but Frey loved them all the same. The green in his hair had to be grass or leaves. Senan’s face was twisted with fear. “Did someone hurt you?” Frey demanded. “Did someone say something?” He held Senan’s face with both hands, ignoring his desire to kiss him again. “Senan, I—”_

__“Who the fuck is Senan?” _Senan demanded. He was starting to cry._

_“Frey.”_

_The voice was the same, but from behind. Frey turned away from Senan to see Senan standing at the other side of the fire. There was something wrong with him, though. He was white as death, his eyes hollow and his face gaunt. He was watching Frey with so much longing and regret. Frey crossed the fire, needing to comfort, but Senan took a step back, away from him, towards their home behind him._

_“You have to bring him back to me,” Senan said. “Please.”_

_“Senan, ann, I don’t understand,” Frey implored, reaching out again._

_“Felix, please,” Senan said. “Bring him home.”_

_Frey’s fingers grazed the curve of Senan’s throat. Senan’s skin bleached white and he suddenly dissolved into an ash pile on the ground, at Frey’s feet. As horror filled him, Frey looked up to his home and saw that it was burning._

Felix had only a split second of clarity— a tiny moment to see that the house had never stood in front of him to begin with— before he hit the dirt and the world went black.

_Everything was on fire._

_Siobhan was dead._

_So was Ava. He saw her little body in his arms, her red hair twisted around his hands like her blood dripping from his skin. He looked down into her eyes and felt like he wasn’t where he was supposed to be._

_Frey struggled to lift is head. He was lying on the ground, his sword just in front of him, beyond Ava. There was fire all around them, and a house collapsed behind him with the screams of people trapped inside. Frey finally managed to look up, and relief swam through him when he met the eyes of Senan just across the fallen body of a Northman. Frey shook his head and grabbed his sword, standing, intending to fight again._

_He looked back up and saw Senan with a blade piercing through his heart._

_Ash fell around them like snow._

_Frey let Senan’s dying eyes one last time and felt his world collapse with Senan’s body._

_Behind Senan stood Einar, holding the bloodied sword that had taken Senan’s life so suddenly._

_The collapsed world was white._

_Frey stumbled to Senan’s side like he was already dead himself. He dropped to his knees beside his lover and gathered the limp man in his arms. Those once dark, beautiful eyes were now glassy and lifeless, staring up into the falling ash with nothing but emptiness._

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There wasn’t supposed to be blood collecting at the edges of Senan’s mouth, or lines of fear in his face. There was’t supposed to be a hole where Senan’s heart should be. Senan had been born to die at peace. He wasn't a warrior like Frey. He wasn’t a monster._

_Frey took Senan’s hand in his own, his heart breaking when he felt it was still warm. Frey didn’t know if the warmth came from Senan’s body or the blood. Frey brought Senan’s hand to his own face, mimicking the way Senan would cup his cheek._

_“_ Elskede, _” Frey implored, wanting to shake Senan back to life. “_ Ann. Svá vel _. Come back.”_

_Senan didn’t respond. He felt so cold._

_“Senan, please,” Frey begged. “It’s almost spring— I-I have a promise to make, you cannot keep this from me.”_

_There was nothing._

_Senan was gone._

_Frey tore his eyes from the body of his lover and saw Einar standing there, cleaning the blood from his blade. Einar met his eyes with cold indifference. Something bright and familiar shone above Einar’s hand, a branding of the mistake he had just made. Frey let Senan’s hand fall to the ground in trade of his sword._

_Frey ran at Einar, a fire surrounding him. More bright lights flashed in his peripherals, familiar shapes, all of them screaming for him to kill, to end this monster, to snuff out the light and string him up. Einar almost looked frightened as Frey barreled towards him. The moment Frey’s blade slid into Einar’s stomach was the moment Frey knew he would never feel peace again. Senan’s smile flashed in his memories, and he twisted the blade, watching with pleasure as blood poured from Einar’s mouth._

_“You took him from me,” Frey growled from deep in his chest. Einar’s eyes went wider and his arm moved._

_He barely felt Einar’s sword slide into his own body._

_He just watched the Northman sink into the ground, watched him die. His own vision was creeping black at the edges._

_“_ Hel taki þik, _” Frey spat at his fallen brother. As the last light died in Einar’s eyes, Frey dropped to the ground and lied on his back. The falling ash looked almost like stars against the winter sky. All around him,_ Doire _burned and died screaming._

_Frey turned his head to look upon Senan one last time. Those lovely, dark eyes were sightless. Frey brought his hand to his lips, tasting the iron of Senan’s death. He felt little faith in any god as he died. All he believed in was the promise he’d made Senan in blood._

_Frey then looked back up to the sky as he reached out to touch the fire beside him._

_He would burn with Senan— no one would be able to tell them apart when their ashes mixed together._


	3. I Can Learn From You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **this is nearly 20-fucking-k and i'm so upset with myself**
> 
>  
> 
> why can't i just write normal things. why do they have to be so long. why.
> 
> i didn't plan for this. this story was supposed to be 30k AT MOST and now i'm like 2-3k shy of fucking 50k like wtf collette this is just fucking ridiculous you fucking idiot
> 
> no glossary because no new information is introduced! just a lot of inner turmoil and resolution. the ending is a little open? if you have any questions about stuff that i didn't answer in the story, feel free to ask! just cause i didn't write it down, doesn't mean i don't know the answer :) i just had to keep this monster from reaching 50k i literally could not allow myself to do something that fucking dumb
> 
> thanks for reading this! i hope you guys enjoyed it :)

Felix opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and tears dried on his face. He stared up at the wood and tried to feel anything more than numb. All he could remember was Senan with the hole in his heart, lying dead on the ground. Felix wanted to hurt. He wanted to cry again. He wanted to scream or fight or explode, but he found he couldn’t do anything at all. He felt like nothing. He felt empty.

There was a lot to be said about the emptiness that came from loss. Maybe some people could twist and mold the feeling into something good, something productive, maybe people could use it as an excuse to better their lives in the name of the person who was gone forever, but Felix knew he wasn’t like that.

He’d lost Senan.

He’d lost someone he’d never physically known, yet knew more intimately than most people in his life. And he’d lost Frey— a man who Felix couldn’t help but identify with, because he’d seen the world through Frey’s eyes. He’d seen the beauty of the trees and the people and Senan. 

He’d lost Frey. 

He’d lost a part of himself. Felix felt like something in him had died while he’d been asleep. There was no other way to describe it. He couldn’t feel his limbs— it was like he was floating in saltwater, weightless and meaningless. Alone in his head. Until now, Felix had felt like his privacy was violated by the memories he couldn't control. Now he felt abandoned without that extra weight of existence in his mind. Frey and Senan were gone and he’d never get them back. 

He hadn’t even made it to spring. 

_”You have to bring him back to me.”_

Felix didn’t know how he could do that. Senan had so desperately trusted Felix with this request, a plea that Felix wanted to fulfill more than anything he’d ever done in his life. But how could he return the dead? 

Dead.

The word sunk heavily into Felix’s chest. 

What else had he expected? He’d been witnessing the memories of a viking, someone who had been alive back when the world was in triple digits. What had he expected? What could he have thought would happen? It was so obvious that Frey and Senan would’ve had to die, even with their belief in magic that Felix so desperately wished he could share, if only to give himself some respite from the real world to convince himself that, just maybe, soulmates existed, and Senan and Frey were together beyond death. But they weren’t. Senan wouldn’t have asked for Felix to bring him back otherwise. 

The ceiling became blurry. Felix was crying again. That was almost good. The emptiness in his chest became an ache. He brought his hands to his face and was only half surprised to see no burns. He distinctly remembered fire eating the flesh from his bones in Frey’s final moments. The scar and the burning after the memories now made sense— he’d been living Frey’s death over and over again upon awakening. It was a sick, cyclical hell, like some purgatory or punishment. It was something Frey didn't deserve. 

There was no way for Felix to fix any of this, though. He couldn’t bring Frey back to Senan, and he knew he wouldn't be able to live with this pain in his heart. No one was meant to live through this kind of loss. It was beyond a loss of a lover— it was a loss of self. Felix had felt himself die night after night without understanding. Now he knew how it had ended. He knew what had become of the man he loved and the man he was. This was no longer between reincarnation or genetics. This was Felix. Centuries away, hardened by battle, softened by the love of a man, and betrayed by his brother. 

It felt like death. It was death. He couldn’t live like this. He felt like a ghost, burdened and tortured with a mockery of life that felt less like existence and more like a cheap trick. Why was he like this? Why was he so fucking cursed? Why did Felix have to remember these things? Why did he have to love someone so completely, only to lose them? And why did he have to face them again and again, knowing what had become of them? If Felix dreamed again tonight, he would…

Felix shuddered and choked on a single sob. 

If he had to see Frey and Senan again tonight, he wasn’t sure what he would do in the morning, but it would be something permanent. Something wrong. Something that he would have never considered before the memory he’d seen. What could Felix have after this? What possible happiness could he feel when he knew how it felt to burn alive, looking into the lifeless eyes of the only person that had ever truly mattered to him? How was he supposed to go on? How was he supposed to even want to live, let alone do it?

It was a cruel existence. He couldn’t think of anything that could make it better.

… That was a lie.

But he couldn’t think about Jack right now. Senan’s death was too fresh and too real— it wasn’t hard to replace those dark eyes with endless blue. If Felix really wanted to feel like dying, all he’d have to do was put Jack there, lying on the ground, impaled on a sword, bleeding and burning. He felt sick just thinking about it. 

Felix tore his eyes from the ceiling. It was a dark wood, oak, polished and calming to look at. It reminded Felix of the ceiling of Senan’s home. The one that had burned that night, crumbled into the ground. Felix went over his tremulous memories of the festival from last night and wondered how much of it had even been real. If the houses had really been standing all along the edges, if there really had been people dancing, if that little girl had actually spoken to him. He wondered if Mark had watched him slowly lose his mind to a world that no longer existed.

Fuck, Mark.

Felix forced himself to sit up and clutched at his head that throbbed at the movement. White lights danced in his eyes, but it was from the headache, not runes. Oddly enough, he wasn’t comforted by their absence. If anything, he wished he could still see the symbols, the signs of reassurance that had led him to answers. He wondered if he would still see _Sowilu_ shining bright above Jack’s head. 

Felix got out of bed, at a loss. He didn’t know who would be downstairs. After finally getting up, he was able to see that he was in one of the rooms of the B’n’B. He didn’t know who was going to be downstairs, if anyone at all. Hell, he didn’t even know how he’d gotten here. It was nice to wake up in the house, though, rather than the hospital. At least he wouldn’t have to give an explanation to any doctors. 

He felt weak. It wasn’t anything new. His fingers shook and his arm still stung, like he was healing from burns. His head didn’t swim, and he felt like he wasn’t about to keel over, but his legs were shaky and unreliable. His abdomen…

Felix lifted his shirt. The scar was still there. Somehow, that was a relief. 

Felix looked to the door and prepared himself to go downstairs, to find Mark. He needed to know how badly he’d messed up last night. He needed to know if he even still had friends. Fuck, what about Marzia? Had she seen what he’d done? The way he’d lost it, dancing with strangers, singing songs he’d never heard before. Had she seen—

He made himself stop thinking. He could only beat himself into the ground so much. Felix dragged his feet, feeling too heavy. His heartbeat felt wrong. He almost wished he’d died in his sleep so he’d be spared the aftermath of living beyond himself. Beyond Frey. 

Felix left the room, realizing it wasn’t safe for himself to be alone. He was down the stairs before he realized it. Felix looked around the empty kitchen. It was homely and quaint— soft pastels and light wood cabinets. The table cloth was a gentle pattern of daisies. There were three chairs, and he sat in one. He looked around and saw a pot on the kettle on the stove, steam rising from the opened spout. Someone had just made tea, but no one was around.

Felix poured himself a mug, adding a liberal amount of honey. He didn’t necessarily want the sweetness; he more so wanted the sensation of the overpowering taste. Mental and emotional apathy was dangerous when paired with physical numbness. He took a sip of the tea and winced because it was way too hot to drink. Good.

Felix looked around the vacant room and then wandered out of the kitchen, to the dining room, then the living room. There was no one at all and the idea didn’t sit well with him. He went back upstairs, the mug clutched in slowly-whitening fingers, and then saw that the deck door was cracked open.

Felix stared at the glass sliding doors with trepidation. Outside, the world was foggy and cold. It had to either be really early morning or really late evening. Ireland apparently didn’t have much of a relationship with daylight, so he couldn’t see if the sun was east or west in the sky. He was tempted to find a clock, but he had a feeling that whatever was beyond that door was far more important than the time.

Felix readied himself and pushed open the door. The deck itself was long and elegant, made with the same dark wood as the rest of the house, and there were two lawn chairs to the left, a double-swing to the right, with a circular, glass table against the wall. Felix saw the furniture before he saw the person. 

Jack was sitting on the railing of the deck with his feet hanging off into nothing. The position was dangerous, as there was nothing to keep Jack from falling backwards or forwards. Jack was supposed to be horribly afraid of heights, so Felix had no idea why he was sitting on the ledge like this. Jack was a brash, bold guy, but he wasn’t anything close to a daredevil. And yet here he fucking was, legs dangling over the ledge, ten feet above the ground, facing the fog.

Fuck, he was gorgeous like this. 

Felix had a perfect view of the sharp turn of Jack’s jaw, and the gentle curve of his neck. He could see the line of Jack’s body through the thin t-shirt the other man was wearing, and jesus, did his ass look good in those black jeans. He was wearing his glasses, too. Felix loved them. He could sit back and stare at Jack for ages, if only because _Jack was fucking alive._ He may have lost Senan, but Felix still had Jack. It mattered.

Felix cleared his throat, wanting to alert Jack to his presence. Jack barely moved, though; he looked over his shoulder, nodded cooly, then looked back out to the fog. Towards _Doire_ , but Felix was sure Jack didn’t realize that was where he was looking to. The ruins of that town meant nothing to Jack. 

Felix went to the ledge, resting his elbows on the wood and leaning out. He had a good few inches between himself and Jack, because he had no idea where they stood. Felix had no idea if what he remembered from last night had been real or not. He had no idea what Jack had seen. The only person who had been remotely prepared for the fallout was Mark, and he was nowhere to be found. 

A sense of abandonment sank into Felix’s bones. Jack wasn’t talking to him, and Mark was just gone. Marzia was probably gone too— hell, she was probably back in England by now, packing her bags, getting as far from her psycho boyfriend as she could. Amy would definitely never talk to him again, which wasn’t so much a bad thing, except once Amy decided she hated Felix, Mark would eventually follow. Maybe hate was a strong word, but Felix suddenly knew, just knew, that he had lost a lot of friends last night. He knew that he would never be able to fix what he’d done to them.

That emptiness was too far away now. As Felix looked over the ledge, he wondered if falling headfirst would actually kill him. At the very least, he wouldn’t wake up for a long time. The mug in his grip was shaking with his hands. He was a fucking wreck. Felix leaned over further, caught up in the image of his neck snapping in the grass, the impact replaying in his mind. Gravity was suddenly a driving force. He leaned even further forward.

A hand smacked hard into his chest, and Felix tore his eyes from the ground to see Jack. The other man was glaring, scowling, baring his teeth. He was furious. It showed in his eyes, in the twitch of disgust in his lip, in the line of his brow. Felix shuddered.

“Don’t ye’ fuckin’ dare,” Jack ground out, low and dangerous. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix replied automatically, and not because he meant it.

“How could ye’ even fuckin’—” Jack cut himself off and ran a harsh hand through his own hair. He tugged hard once at the green, then look back to Felix, still furious. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, ye’ know that? I fuckin’ hate ye’.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ye’ ever even think about doing something like that ever again,” Jack threatened. “It’s one thing to lose yer mind and pass out in the middle of a fuckin’ party, but it’s a-fucking-nother to stare over a ledge like ye’ wanna jump. It wouldn’t even kill ye’, Fe’, ye’d just suffer!”

Maybe that was the point. Felix grimaced and looked away. But Jack wasn’t having that.

“No, don’t ye’ fucking do that either,” Jack ordered, sharp and angry. “Don’t shut me out after everything ye’ve done. Do you really think it’s okay to just come barreling back into me life after a month of avoiding me only to drag me back to fuckin’ Ireland of all places and have a damn episode in the middle of some pagan dance? I won’t have ye’ shuttin’ me out, Fe’, not after what ye’ve done to me and yerself. You’re gonna stay here and you’re gonna tell me everything.”

“There isn’t much I can say,” Felix said.

“Oh, that’s a giant fuckin’ lie,” Jack growled, twisting to face Felix, still sitting precariously on the ledge. Felix reached out before he could think, taking Jack by the side to steady him, but Jack smacked his hand away. Felix flinched and the anger died like a candle in rain. Jack’s eyes were still wide, but with shock at his own actions. “Felix, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Felix choked out. “I probably deserve that.”

Jack shook his head, but he didn’t deny it. “This is all so fucked,” he said. “Ye’ve no idea what it was like. To see you drop to the ground like that. Ye’d just been dancing, ye’ know? Dancing and smiling and singing those words that were definitely not fuckin’ Swedish, and ye; did that, _that thing._ ” Felix frowned, unsure what “the thing” Jack was referring to was. “And then you were suddenly all turned around.” Jack shook his head. “You didn’t know who Mark was. How could ye’ not know Mark? And then ye’ talked to fuckin’ no one! You just were starin’ at the empty space, talkin’ to someone, and then ye’ hit the floor, and I—”

Jack cut himself off. He looked angry again. “Maybe I don’t understand what’s happening to ye’,” he said. “But it’s not me fault that I don’t. Ye’ve kept me in the dark, and it ain’t fuckin’ fair. I think it’s time ye’ tell me the truth. You owe it to me.”

“What makes you say that?” Felix asked. Not that he didn’t agree, he just wanted to know why Jack felt like he was so intricately connected to Felix’s personal hell. He shouldn’t be aware of any of this having to do with him.

Jack looked to him with a weary eye. “Ye’ really don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“What ye’ did. Last night.”

Felix sighed and hung his head, frustrated with his own terrible mind. He wished this could somehow be easier. “Jack, I did a lot of shit that night, okay, and I don’t actually know if a lot of it was real or just something that I saw in my head. You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

Jack glanced away. There was suddenly a faint tinge to his cheeks. He looked almost embarrassed. “Ye’ kissed me.”

Felix’s head snapped to Jack so quickly that it made him dizzy. “What?”

“Ye’ kissed me,” Jack repeated, chewing on his lower lip. “Called me Senan again, too, but that was honestly less shocking than the kiss, so…”

Felix gaped. He’d kissed Jack and _didn’t remember it?_ That had to be the most unfair thing to ever happen to Felix. “I am so sorry.”

Jack shook his head. “Not like you could help it,” he mumbled. “Ye’ weren’t in the right mind. I-I’m just sorry for what I did.”

“What did you do?” What could Jack have possibly done that merited an apology? Especially after Felix had jumped him like that. Jesus, the guilt would hit him soon enough. Felix was grateful for the solid railing beneath his elbows to keep him steady. 

Jack shook his head. The tinge was still there, but there was also something sadder. “Doesn’t matter now. If ye’ don’t remember it, then it’s probably for the best. What I can tell ye’ is that I maybe cried over yer body after ye’ passed out. Screamed a little bit. I was definitely in hysterics, not exactly a pretty picture.”

“You cried?” Felix echoed. “Over me?”

“Course I did, right after me fuckin’ heart attack.”

Felix laughed, and was startled by it. He didn’t think he could do that so soon. Then again, this was Jack. He’d always managed to bring out the best in him, even when he didn’t want it. Jack looked proud of himself, but the smile that came with that pride quickly faded. “Are ye’ really so surprised?” Jack asked him. “I’d cry if ye got hurt, Fe’. For a terrifying moment, I-I’d thought ye’ dead. Ye’ really think I wouldn’t care if ye’…” 

“If I died?” Felix finished for him. He shrugged. “Never gave it much thought.”

“Well, ye’ shouldn’t have ta’ even think to know that I’d fall to fuckin’ pieces,” Jack said. “You’re more than my best friend, Fe’, you’re the person who brought me to where I am today. Ye’ gave me my boost and ye’ gave me advice all along the way. Maybe I don’t show it so much anymore, but you wouldn’t be forgotten so easily. You’re not just a friend, you’re like a fuckin’ mentor or something more.”

“I would be a terrible mentor.” Felix chuckled self-deprecatingly. 

“I can’t argue that,” Jack admitted, giving Felix a hint of a smile. “You’re just…” Jack took in a long breath. “Ye’ mean more to me than I can tell ye’ right now. You have to know that. Don’t ever underestimate what ye’ mean to me.” Jack reached out and lied a hand over one of Felix’s. They shared the warmth of Felix’s mug. Felix felt like his heart was on display between them, lit up by lights and exposed. He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t ready for this.

“I did die,” Felix said suddenly, before he could chicken out. The hand on his own tensed. “I died,” Felix repeated. “In my head. I-I’ve been having these, these memories. Of myself and someone else, from years ago. And I, I died last night.” His throat closed up. “I died with that other person and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay after that.”

“ _Ye’ died?_ ” Oddly enough, Jack didn’t sound like he didn’t believe Felix. He just sounded like he absolutely hated the idea. “Holy shit, are ye’— do ye’ need— How do I—” Jack looked like he was at a loss. “Holy shit.” He paused. “Did it hurt?” Jack asked after a moment. “Dying?”

Felix shut his eyes and thought of the way his blood had left his veins and the fire had burned him into nothing. He thought of the way his nerve endings had screamed for relief. He thought of how he couldn’t tear his eyes from Senan’s through all of it. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ye’ can’t ignore this,” Jack said. “Ye’ just can’t.”

“I died with someone I loved very much,” Felix said. “Just, just remembering it hurts so much, Jack. It was literally last night, I can’t, okay?”

Jack paused again. “Was it Senan? The man ye’ keep thinking is me.”

Felix shuddered. He cast his eyes down the ledge. Fucking christ.

“Stop this,” Jack said firmly. The fierceness of his voice startled Felix. “Stop thinking like that. Ye’ve got a lot more than just those thoughts in yer head, so I want ye’ to quit it and focus on how we’re going to fix this.”

“I just told you, you can’t—”

“I can’t accept that,” Jack snapped. “You’re not gonna live the rest of yer life a slave to some someone who’s fuckin’ dead.”

“It’s more than just some someone, _it’s you_ , Jack.”

“No, it ain’t.” Jack stood straight, scowling, barely thrown by Felix’s confession. “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck about this fuckin’ asshole named Senan who looks like me— if he’s hurtin’ ye’, then I hate him. Ye’ shouldn’t love someone who puts ye’ in such agony, Fe’. _I won’t let him take ye’ from me._ ”

Felix shook all over at Jack’s declaration. It felt too much like love. It sounded to much like Senan’s death. “I can’t,” he confessed. “I can’t move on.”

“Why the fuck not?” Jack demanded.

“Because I died!” Felix almost shouted. Tears returned, spilling out and over his cheeks with no warning. “You don’t understand what I’ve been going through! Senan is you, Jack, he looks exactly like you because he is you! I don’t know how, and I can’t even begin to explain why, but last night, you died in my arms, and then I was dead too. I saw the light go out in your eyes, Jack, _I saw you die!_ And it was so much worse than my own death.”

“But I’m not fuckin’ dead, Felix,” Jack bit out slowly. He was angry all over again. “I’m sittin’ right here in front of ye’, watching you decide whether or not ye’ wanna fucking throw yourself off this deck. _Which is dumb,_ by the way. So fucking dumb. And I’m not that fuckin’ man, I’m Seán! Seán fuckin’ McLoughlin, sittin’ right here, totally not dead! I ain’t dead, Felix.”

“You don’t get it.” Felix couldn’t blame him for it. “You don’t know how much it hurt.”

“It wasn’t real, Felix.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, _it was._ ” Felix dragged in oxygen and then set the mug down on the floor beside him. He suddenly didn’t trust his grip on anything. “It was real, Jack, that’s what I’ve been scared to tell you. So if I do actually tell you the truth right now, you have to promise that you won’t call me crazy or anything. You have to promise to let me finish telling you what I can, and then…” This was hard. “You, you have to promise you won’t run away from me.” He’d already lost Senan— he could not lose Seán. “You can’t leave.”

“So I’m prisoner?” Jack shook his head. “Doesn’t sound so bad. Not like I would jump or something.” The comment was meant to criticize, but it only gave Felix a question.

“Why are you sitting there?” Felix asked. “Like that? You hate being up high.”

Jack shrugged. “Watching ye’ hit the dirt yesterday was the scariest moment of my life, Felix. Looking down a couple feet higher than I stand suddenly doesn’t seem that bad.” He glanced over and cracked a smile. “I came out here for air, Instead, I found myself sitting over a ledge, grateful to all fucking hell and back that Mark was able to tell me ye’ were breathing loud enough to be heard over my screaming.”

“Wish I could’ve seen it,” Felix said before he could think better. Jack scowled, and Felix knew he definitely deserved the anger this time. “Sorry. That was bad.”

“That was fuckin’ tactless, ye’ dick,” Jack grumbled. “Jesus. Say something like that again, and I’ll punch ye’ in the fuckin’ jaw.”

“And I would totally let you,” Felix said. 

“Tell me what’s happening,” Jack said. “And I promise I won’t run.”

Felix wanted to believe him, more than anything. But the idea of having to explain this to someone again, to risk that look of incredulous disbelief and then _overwhelming pity_ on Jack’s face, was the last thing Felix wanted to do. It had to show, and Jack opened his mouth, ready to say some bullshit, like how it couldn’t be as bad as Felix thought it was, but Felix beat him to the punch.

“You were a man named Senan in a different time,” Felix said. “You lived in Ireland— always have, I guess. You had darker hair, and black eyes. You looked exactly the same, though, down to the…” The angle of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheeks, the gentle, reassuring look, and that high laughter. “You were the same,” Felix said. “Down to the very way you would walk. And you were amazing, Jack.” He smiled out to the fog and picked up his mug again. 

“A _Cailleach,_ ” he said, forming his lips around the title like the beautiful word it was. “You hated being one, but god, I loved it. Frey loved it, really, but I— I’m Frey.” Felix nodded to himself. “I’m Frey. You’re Senan. It’s why I kept getting your name wrong. Because it is your name, just… in another lifetime.” He looked to the mug. The tea was cold.

“You lived in that town,” he said, gesturing out towards the fog. “It isn’t there anymore— it got burnt down by the Northmen. Called _Doire_ , and the people there, uhm… Well, some were scared of you, but some loved you. The whole _Cailleach_ thing is basically a witch hunt with a lot more zen implications and a lot less evil. No devil shit, just you knowing your gods better than they ever could, and they hated you for it sometimes, but you were loved. You were cherished. No one let you freeze in the night or starve in the winter. And you just had this way about you. The way you’d smile at little kids and they’d ignore the warnings of their parents. You were your own person. You didn’t even believe in the gods, I’m pretty sure, which was total fucking anarchy. You were so good to me and we…”

They were to be married in the spring. 

Jack was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Were we in love?” Jack asked. And god, the way Jack said it made it sound like the possibility was the worst thing in the world to him. Felix wished the ground could swallow him whole, just envelope him in darkness, and he wanted the nothing back. Jack could never feel the same way for him. Maybe Jack was Senan, maybe Felix had made peace with the idea of being reincarnated and finding Jack again, across all these years, but he wasn’t going to get Jack back. 

“We were, weren’t we?” Jack shook his head. “This is wrong, Felix.”

“It is?” Felix asked, his heart breaking.

“Ye’ don’t understand, but your feelings aren’t yer own,” Jack said. “You’re caught up in this— this Frey character. And Senan. So whatever ye’ think ye’ feel for me is just the twisting of all of that, okay?” Jack extended a placating hand. “Ye’ kissed Senan, not me. It’ll be okay. I’m not upset, and it won’t happen again.” He almost looked upset.

Felix honestly hadn’t thought he could sink any lower.

He’d been wrong. 

“I don’t blame ye’ fer what ye’ did,” Jack said. Felix couldn’t read him, couldn’t understand the strange look in his eyes. Maybe it was just hard for Felix to see through the tears welling in his own. “Hey, Fe’, I promise,” Jack said. That steadying hand was still hovering between them. “I don’t blame ye’ for any of it and I won’t hold it again you. Ye’ wouldn’t have done it if you were in the right mind. It was just a mistake. It was the emotions of another personality or something, and not you. You, y-you’re not in love with me.”

Jack wet his lips. “Let’s just agree that it ain’t you, yeah? Whoever was in love with Senan is making you confused. We’ll treat this like those people who sleep walk. It ain’t their fault they walked into a bedroom or two when they’re passed the fuck out.” Jack looked away and swallowed hard enough for Felix to see. For a moment, it didn’t sound like Jack was trying to convince only Felix. “Ye’ didn’t mean it. Ye’ don’t love me. You’re being manipulated.” Jack nodded firmly. “Ye’ don’t love me.”

Felix had half a mind to check underneath his own shirt— he expected for find another wound through his chest. “I’m gonna go find Mark,” he said. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what he had to be grateful for, but it was probably what he was expected to say. Just fill in the blanks, Felix, and it’ll all be over soon. He needed away from Jack. The relief that he used to bring was now overshadowed by the heartbreak. Felix pushed off the rail and rushed to the glass doors.

“For the record,” he said after realizing he needed to make one more mistake before he could leave. “I want you back.” Felix looked over his shoulder to Jack, who’s mouth fell open in surprise. “I want you back. Not Senan, not Frey. _I want you back._. I don’t want us just to be a memory.” He left too quickly for Jack to have time to respond. Felix went back to the bedroom and dug through his suitcase, ignoring the absence of Marzia’s. He found his phone and was out of the house, down the road with the phone to his ear before he could even see he’d somehow put on his shoes.

“Where are you?” he asked once Mark finally picked up. There was useless sputtering, then a girl’s voice.

“Mark’s in the bathroom,” Amy said, sounding shellshocked. “Felix… are you okay?”

“I need to talk to Mark.” He needed someone who wouldn’t just deny more of Felix. Maybe Jack had been accepting of the implications of Felix being someone else from the past (and himself), but Jack just straight up calling bullshit on Felix being able to know his own emotions felt somehow worse than being called crazy. 

“He’ll be out in a few minutes,” Amy said. “We’re at this cool little bistro place down the street. Maybe you could come here? I’m sure you could use something to eat. They, they have sandwiches. I’m sure you’ll like something on the menu.” Felix got the distinct impression that she wanted to see him in person. Either she was worried about him being alone, or she was worried about him hurting someone else. It didn’t matter. Felix was going.

He glanced behind himself and saw the bistro that she was talking about. It really was directly across the street from the B’n’B, facing away from _Doire_. Felix almost thought he could see the pink-haired girl sitting at a table near the large, front windows. He hung up. She would see him coming soon enough. The feeling of not being trusted sat badly in his stomach, but whatever. He crossed the street and walked into the bistro, trying as hard as he could to act like he was a normal person— even if he did sway a little like a drunkard. 

Amy waved him down. She really had been sitting by the window. She looked startled, but simultaneously pleased to see him, like she hadn’t expected him to show up. Felix sat down in the only seat at the table that didn’t have a drink in front of it. The waitress instantly latched onto his arrival and he ordered a coffee. After a moment of awkward silence, Felix finally sighed and forced himself to relax. Amy wasn’t an enemy. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“Almost seven,” she replied. Amy smiled tightly at him. “Feeling okay?”

Felix shrugged. Jack’s denial of Felix still stung, even after his little walk. “What did you see of last night?”

“I saw you on the ground with Jack holding your body like something out of a tragic romance,” Amy replied. “I was the last person to catch up. I missed most of the action, I guess.” She was still smiling. It looked like it pained her to do so. “Pretty sure I haven’t seen Mark that close to a full-blown panic attack in years. It’s weird, cause he doesn’t actually talk about you that much back at home? But he sure as hell acted like you meant way more to him than he ever let on.”

Felix frowned. 

“I don’t mean that in an offensive way,” she amended. “I was just surprised to see him struggle so much with keeping his head on straight. Even when someone like Tyler or Ethan has gotten pretty hurt, he still managed to keep a clear head. One time Tyler knocked himself out on the edge of the coffee table. Mark was a lot more controlled for that than he was when he saw you black out.” She shrugged. “He just never really let on that you guys were so close. It’s almost sweet. Normally people brag about relationships, but it’s almost like Mark wanted to keep what he has with you to himself.”

Because Mark was keeping secrets for Felix. Secrets that he didn’t deserve to be burdened with. Felix regretted opening his mouth. Mark sat down next to him and thankfully split up Felix’s concentration. But then he fully registered that it was Mark. Now Felix had to actually talk about what had happened. 

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Mark said, his voice hushed. Mark reached out and rested his hand on Felix’s arm. He had his thigh against Felix’s under the table, their ankles crossed. Mark was trying to touch as much of him as physically possible without being too weird, but it was still fucking weird. The most he could get away with in public, at least. “If we weren’t out here, I’d probably be wrestling you down onto a couch and literally making you cuddle me,” Mark told him with a wry grin. “Not sure you get just how worried I’ve been about you these past couple weeks, but I still want to ask that you just, like, cut me some slack and let me hover.”

“People have been using that word a lot,” Felix said. “Worried.”

“That’s what happens when you have dreams that give you physical scars and make you hallucinate in front of a bunch of people.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and darted to Amy. Mark waved him off. “I’ve told her,” he said. “I tell her everything. I mean, I really just told her last night after we got you into a bed, but hey. Better late than never, right?”

“I appreciated it,” Amy hummed. 

“You’re just passing around my crazy like it’s hot potato?” Felix scowled and pulled his arm around of Mark’s reach. “I appreciate it.” He made to stand. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Please don’t go,” Mark said. Felix had to stop, because Mark was far too vulnerable for him to ignore in that moment. He scowled even deeper, but sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest. “You need to talk,” Mark said. “Or else you wouldn’t have come to me. Maybe I should’ve asked you before I told Amy, but I was legitimately losing it, and she was worried. I trust her completely, Felix, she won’t do anything.”

“And what, just believe that she won’t call the police or something?”

“Unlike you guys, I actually believe in reincarnation without the need of proof,” Amy interjected, taking a calm bite of a pastry Felix hadn’t noticed in front of her. “If anything, it’s actually kinda neat to hear about what you’re experiencing. I’ve always wanted to be able to remember my past lives. God knows I never expected to get any sort of legitimate proof for my beliefs. I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones.”

“You’re crazy,” Felix said, full of spite. “Don’t talk about this like it’s some sort of gift. I didn’t ask for this.” 

She winced. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Felix couldn’t even feel bad. He’d never really understood how those unwilling superheroes could possibly feel until now. Having some sort of thing about you that was “special” only brought a personal kind of torture. 

“You’re gonna tell me what happened, right?” Mark asked. 

Felix sighed, knowing he would have to describe all of this sooner or later to Mark. He might as well just get it over with. Sitting at the table, though, and forcing himself to remember in depth, Felix felt his mind slipping away again. The palms of his hands began to feel wet, but he refused to look down and see his hands covered in Senan’s blood. Felix’s vision hazed. He looked out into the store and saw ash falling from the ceiling like snow. Flames licked at the corners of his eyes.

A mug was placed loudly on the table in front of him, and Felix jumped harshly as the waitress brought him his coffee. Felix looked up at Mark, eyes wide, breathing erratically. Mark stared back. He looked tired and ragged, almost older. He didn’t say anything, only sat next to Felix, waiting for him to speak, and drank from his own cup. After a long moment of recollecting himself, Felix took his mug and drank too. 

“You scared us last night,” Mark said. He was almost whispering. He’d probably gotten impatient or unhappy with the silence. “You started speaking in this language, and…” Mark shook his head, then took another sip of his drink. “I can’t explain how you knew the things you did.”

“I can,” Felix said. God, his voice sounded awful, like he’d swallowed nails. “You won’t like it, though.”

Mark nodded. “What did you see?’

“I saw dancers,” Felix said. “Houses, all of them the same as they were back in _Doire_. I saw a little girl and she asked me to sing for her. I saw people I knew, people I’d hunted with and ate with and called my friends. I saw so many decorations and dyes and so many fires, all of them good. I saw Senan.” Felix smiled and his heart _hurt_. “I saw Senan and I kissed him. And then…” He saw Senan again, across the fire. Before everything went up in flames and ash. 

“And then… I, I fucked up,” Felix continued. “Fucked up so badly and kissed Jack.”

Mark nodded again. “I saw. I was more than a little shocked.”

“How much does he hate me now?” Felix asked. “I saw him just before I left the house, and I talked to him. He said he didn’t care, but he also said some pretty fucked up shit on top of it, so I kinda feel like he’s told you more truth than he’s told me.”

“He didn’t talk to me about it.”

Felix’s thoughts stalled. “What?”

“He’s worried about you,” Mark sighed. “That’s all I know. He absolutely refused to talk to me. And it felt like shit, Felix, to have both of my friends just cutting themselves off from me. Which, like, I get it with you, but with Jack? What the hell could he hide from me? I can’t take much more of this stress. Especially after last night.” That haunted look came back over Mark.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said, and feeling like he couldn’t say it enough. “Putting you through this, I—”

“It isn’t your fault,” Mark interrupted firmly. “And don’t you dare try to tell yourself it is.”

Felix looked down at the mug in his hands. He hadn’t taken another swallow. “I used to think this was like Assassin’s Creed,” he murmured. “That I was Desmond looking back into Altaïr or Ezio or Connor. And that Jack was Shaun and Malik in one. I used to think this was just some weird passing of genetics and a glitch in my mind. But that sounds just as crazy as what’s actually happening.”

“What is happening?” Mark asked. “Not that I don’t like your comparison. That was a really good attempt.”

“It was pointless,” Felix huffed. “And the truth of what this is is so much worse. I-I don’t really want to say it out loud. And I really don’t want to tell you.” Mark looked hurt. “It’s not like that,” Felix said quickly in an attempt to mend. “It’s not that I think you’ll do anything or say anything, I know that you probably feel like shit for calling me crazy before. I just can’t even admit what this is to myself. It sounds fucking dumb, Mark, it sounds like a cheesy romance horror of hell! I can’t just say it, I can’t—” He cut himself off, frustrated. 

“It’s okay,” Mark said, probably trying to be soothing. “Just tell me what it is.”

Felix felt bad for basically ignoring Amy, but he just didn’t know her well enough to talk to her. So long as he faced Mark, he could keep going. “I’m already insane, I don’t want to sound fucking stupid on top of that,” Felix huffed. 

“It’s not stupid,” Mark reassured him. “We’re beyond stupid right now, we’re basically wading in the most unknown territory ever that I can only relate to the fucking bayou from Resident Evil 7, okay? And you’ve got a monster chasing you, a monster called your mental and physical wellbeing. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on so I can give you some sort of weapon to defend yourself.”

“This isn’t a video game,” Felix said.

“You just told me how you were relating all of this to Assassin’s Creed, dude, I feel like I’m allowed to draw my own video game based similarities as well. At least it makes things a little easier to understand.”

Felix bit his lip. “You really think I’m in danger?”

Mark looked Felix dead in the eye. “I am genuinely afraid that you are going to hurt yourself,” he told Felix, slowly. “I’m honestly relieved that you didn’t throw yourself into the fucking fire last night. I’m relieved you didn’t jump out the upstairs window. I’m relieved you actually came down here and sat at the table instead of going for a knife.”

“I’m not suicidal,” Felix lied. Leaning over the ledge like he had was damning enough. Mark narrowed his eyes and saw right through him. “I’m not depressed,” Felix hedged. That was only half a lie.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Mark said. 

“I’m honestly okay with that,” Felix admitted. “I mean it, Mark. I-I really don’t want to die. But…”

“But you went through something traumatic,” Mark said for him. “And sometimes that takes the choice out of your hands. Or at least makes it a little harder to think clearly.” Mark nodded. “Are you going to tell me what you saw?”

“I already did.”

“No, what you saw after you started talking to the empty air, before you collapsed.”

Felix grimaced. “… I saw them die,” he said after a pause. “Both of them. Senan, then Frey. Well, me, really. The Northmen attacked, Einar led them, a-and after I told everyone that I would try to keep them safe.” Felix lifted a hand and wrung his still-numb fingers in his hair. “It was my fault. I should’ve gone back to them, to my people. I should’ve told them there was nothing by the woods.” The idea had never occurred to Frey, but it hit Felix now. If he’d put aside his own selfish need to be with Senan, he could have saved _Doire_.

“The Northmen came and they killed Senan,” Felix said, his voice cracking at the edge. “I-I saw him die. I saw the light leave his eyes, I-I saw it. And then I _lost_ it, Mark, I just, I ran at Einar, I ran at him and _I killed him_. The world was _screaming_ for me to do it, and I did, _I-I killed Einar,_ my brother. And then there was a blade in me and I lied down and I looked to Senan one last time as the, _the blood,_ it was everywhere, it came from my stomach, from the ground, _from Senan, I-I-I was dying, I was burning and dying and I can’t—”_

He saw Senan lying lifeless on the ground with so much blood, all of this awful blood pooling beneath him, and the ash landing softly on his face, catching in his lashes, and _Senan was beautiful_ , he was always so beautiful, even in death, but Frey was alone then, alone in those final moments, _Senan was dead and he was alone—_

“Felix, Felix, snap out of it!”

_Frey looked up into Senan’s bright blue eyes and sobbed raggedly, reaching up to hold his face in his hands. He felt so warm, so unlike how he’d felt before, all cold and still and empty. Senan was looking at him with so much pain and Frey sobbed again, clawing at the front of Senan’s shirt, trying to bring him closer. “You died,” he choked out, unable to understand how Senan was standing in front of him, but so fucking grateful that he was. “I saw it, I felt your death,” Frey whimpered. “Don’t leave me again,” he begged, pulling Senan’s forehead against his own. “Don’t leave me again,” he whispered._

_“I won’t, I won’t,” Senan promised, though he didn’t sound like himself. “I won’t leave again, but you have to promise me that you’ll come back, okay? Just come back, Felix, we need you.”_

_“Felix?” Frey repeated slowly. “Who—”_

_There was still dark brown looking into his own eyes, but this man suddenly looked different. It wasn’t Senan in front of him anymore, clinging to him, begging him to return, it was a stranger, it was a man with exotic eyes,_ it was Mark.

“Holy shit,” Felix gasped, hunching over and clutching at the scar that screamed a protest at any sort of breathing. “Mark, Mark, fuck, it hurts,” he wheezed, heaving for breath or some sort of respite. Mark pushed Felix into an upright position and wrung his fingers in Felix’s shirt at the collar, looking scared and at a loss, but still holding him up. Felix reached out and braced himself against Mark’s shoulder, shutting his eyes. He just needed to relax. He needed to ground himself and just focus for a little bit. He couldn’t keep putting that sort of expression on Mark’s face. It just wasn’t right.

Felix just zeroed in on the feeling of nothing that had overcome him when he’d first woken up. If he could sink back into that apathy, he’d be fine. He’d have working lungs and a solid grip on the present. That was all he needed right now. 

And it took a few seconds, but he did reach that emptiness quickly enough, that apathy. Yes, Senan was dead. Yes, Felix had kissed Jack and probably ruined one of the best relationships in his life. Yes, he was probably pretty much alone from this point on, since Mark would have to go back to the states. It was easy to feel empty after reminding himself of just how awful everything really was. 

Fuck, he’d just done that _in public._ Felix glanced out and was relieved to see no one watching him and the table. Maybe his lapse of time had been a lot more quiet than it felt. Maybe the music playing over the speakers in this place was louder than your average mental breakdown. 

Felix took in a long breath, relieved to have his body obeying him again. 

“What was that?” Mark asked, his voice shaky with emotion. “Are you okay?”

“Just a slip,” Felix said. His voice was hoarse again. Felix reached to the table and took a swallow of the coffee, needing the warmth to fix his ragged throat. “Fell out of time a little, it’s okay.” The exact same thing had happened yesterday. He wondered if he would have to start getting used to it. “I’m fine, really,” he insisted when he saw Mark didn’t believe him. “Just some pain, just some stupid lungs, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“There was nothing ordinary about that,” Mark said with a solemn shake of his head. Felix glanced a look at Amy and saw she was white as a sheet. Maybe now she finally got that this wasn’t something anyone would ask for. 

“It’s what happens when I wake up,” Felix told Mark gently. “I-I know it has to look bad, it has to look so bad, but…” God, he couldn’t explain this away. It was normal for him. “… I told you I was a mess, Mark.”

Mark looked away. There were tears in his eyes. “Please don’t cry,” Felix said. He didn’t know how to handle that. “If you start crying, I’ll start crying again, and I’m really not in the emotional state to pull myself back together from this sort of thing.” Mark crying was a visceral experience. Felix had made his jokes in the past, but Mark crying out of legitimate pain was just not something he could handle. Especially now.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mark whimpered, turning away. “Tell, tell me what you couldn’t before. About what all of this is. It has to be easier than what just happened, right? It has to be.”

Felix grimaced. “Soulmates,” he said, the word sitting uncomfortably on his tongue. “Maybe not like the traditional red string thing from Japan and shit, but Jack and I aren’t fumbling through genetics. We, we’re somehow connected. I know we have to be. Because neither Frey nor Senan had kids, and yet Jack somehow looks exactly the same.” Felix was sure Frey looked like him too, he’d just never really sought out a reflection. “Senan did a thing with my hand,” he said, holding out his palm, the one that was still haphazardly bandaged. “And his own. He connected us through blood. Connected me and Jack through everything and I—”

Felix stopped. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say this. But the hurt was still oh-so fresh, and he needed to confide in someone, he needed to tell Mark. “Jack said what I feel for him isn’t real,” he murmured. “Which feels worse than anything. Because I know, Mark, I know that what I feel goes beyond what Senan did. I-I hate myself for saying it, but I was wrong before.” Felix looked away in shame. “I’m in love with Jack and it’s so fucking wrong.” 

He didn’t want to see the pity that had to be on Mark’s face— he saw the pity on Amy’s face instead. 

“Marzia saw you kiss Jack,” Mark said after a moment. “She left. I hate to tell you this, Felix, but I don’t think you should expect to see her when you get home.”

Felix wasn’t surprised. “Not really sure where home is anymore.” He felt connected to this foreign country in a way he never felt at home in Sweden. It was a confusing reality, but he was learning to accept it. Felix wasn’t himself anymore; he had two lifetimes in his head. It was becoming a little easier to swallow. 

“If you really are in love with Jack, are you going to do anything about it?”

“He doesn’t believe me,” Felix said. “He probably doesn’t believe any of it.”

“Does that bother you?” Mark asked softly.

Felix snorted. “Would it bother you if Amy didn’t believe you if you told her you had nightmares?”

“It would hurt, Mark sighed. “But that’s different.”

“Is it?” Felix asked. 

“It’s not,” Amy said, leveling Mark with a look. “Not if you love him.”

Mark heaved another sigh. “Fuck.”

“Senan talked to me, too,” Felix said, because there were still some things he needed to work through. “He told me to bring him back— whatever the fuck that means. He basically begged me to bring him back but I don’t know what—”

Felix stopped abruptly.

Senan had asked for Felix to bring him— Frey— back. Of course, that was so fucking obvious now. And while that wouldn't have made sense to anyone else (because how do you bring back a ghost of a person that you technically are?), Felix remembered a tiny little paragraph in one of the many books he’d read back at the library in Brighton. 

Frey hadn’t died like he was supposed to— maybe he’d died in battle like he’d sworn to Senan he would, but he’d died fighting his own brother. He’d been a traitor to his people, and that instantly denied him the respectful burial you would expect to be given to a viking. But they wouldn’t just leave him behind— not the son of a _Volva_ , not someone who still died with bravery in their hands. 

No, they would’ve taken his body back. They would’ve returned Frey to his parents.

“I know what I have to do.” Felix stood up suddenly, his eyes huge with his realization. He then looked between Mark and Amy. “Don’t wait up.”

He was out of the bistro and across the street in moments. 

He knew what he needed to do.

He needed his passport. 

. . .

Felix actually knew a lot about Norway simply by default. He’d visited a couple times when he’d been younger, gone on excursions as a child with his family and school. His own country’s history was intermixed with Norway and Finland and Denmark, so he knew quite a bit just by being Norway’s neighbor. Plus, it wasn’t much unlike Sweden. And it wasn’t like he’d be a fish out of water with the language. There were more than enough similarities for him to handle himself.

Felix mostly wandered around the airport he’d flown into. He only had the clothes he’d woken up in back in Ireland on his back, and his wallet with his passport. He didn’t have his phone. He hadn’t had time to stop and think— he’d only had Senan’s words playing over and over again in his mind.

_“Bring him back to me.”_

Well fucking hell, what else was Felix going to do but to answer a dying wish? And if Felix was never going to be able to have Jack, he would ensure that Senan would have Frey. 

It didn’t quite make sense to Felix how their two relationships could coexist inside the same soul, but he’d decided that he was done trying to think things through. Thinking too hard had done nothing but driven him to the brink. So long as he didn’t think about it, he’d be able to ignore the fact that he basically had no fucking reason to live once he got this done. But whatever. He had a job to do.

Felix looked at the countless photos that lined the walls of the Bergen airport. He was waiting for something to stick out. He hadn’t let himself sleep, and he wasn’t about to, so he had no idea where his fucked up brain was standing with the whole hallucination thing. He didn’t think Senan would ask something of him that he couldn't do, though. So he walked up and down the halls, waiting for something to seem familiar. 

There was a rune. 

The first thing Felix felt when he saw it was naked relief. His mind hadn’t abandoned him to this. He wasn’t alone in his search. His memories were still in there, somehow, fighting to lead Felix along. They wanted to be brought back to Senan, where they truly belonged. Felix grinned at the rune, _Raidho_ shining bright. Communication. A journey. Felix needed to go there.

He stepped back from the photo, looking at the picture instead of the shining rune. 

Sognefjord.

Felix had never been there. He stared into the picture, reading that it was the deepest fjord in Norway. His eyes scanned along the edges of the mountains, waiting for something to make sense. Nothing stood out. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t the right place. 

Felix pulled himself away and bought a ticket for the next flight into the fjord. He was getting closer. 

As he boarded the plane for the short flight, Felix found himself smiling again as he looked out the window onto the tarmac. 

It was odd. For the past month, Felix had felt nothing but out of control. He hadn’t been the master of his thoughts, his emotions, even his fucking body. He was a slave to the two people in his mind, and he was losing everyone in his waking life to the people he saw when he was asleep. It had been a special kind of hell that left him shaking and struggling to function. 

But now, on this plane? In the middle of fucking Norway, all alone? He felt weirdly at peace with himself. He was finally doing what his mind wanted him to do. Even if he couldn’t have the people he loved around him, at least his mind would stop tearing him apart. 

Felix wondered if he’d ever feel normal again. 

That was a bad thought. A dangerous one. He didn’t have Jack around to keep him from a ledge. He needed to stop thinking about that. Felix tore his eyes from the window. That good feeling from seconds before was gone. He needed to focus on not falling asleep and finding Frey. Once he got that done, he’d be on to the next step, and that much closer to ending… ending something.

Felix waved down a stewardess, prepared to literally beg for a cup of coffee. He was going to need it.

. . .

Buying the hiking gear had been easy enough.

Having a sleeping bag and a small tent was probably overkill.

He didn’t need a hotel room because he didn’t intend on resting until he’d found Frey.

A shit ton of water, a shit ton of protein bars, and a shit ton of chocolate covered espresso beans. Also the heaviest jacket he could find.

He bought a shovel and he didn’t know why.

Felix had the same plan as at the airport. Wander until something seemed familiar. The wandering led him to various answers— a tour bus that took him into Balestrand, a general direction to walk towards through the town, and then the direction he should head once he was more into the wilderness side of things. 

But the runes also led him to some smaller things, like a place to eat and where he’d even bought the hiking gear. Felix wasn’t exactly big on hiking, and he really had no idea what he was doing, so he’d ended up buying a good amount of things he probably didn’t need. Still, he felt like he needed to be prepared for anything. Felix knew there was two ways this whole shiftiest could go— he’d either find Frey and fulfill his pseudo-destiny, or he’d died out there and rot. Either one of those would be poetic. 

Felix looked up at the sky. The sun was setting. He grimaced and looked around. Maybe he really did need that hotel. But the rune was shining brightly out into the nothingness of the trees, and Felix’s body begged for sleep. He tensed, realizing he had to make a crucial decision.

Get a hotel and risk dreaming and dying again, or heading out into the night and getting this over with. Felix paused, really trying to think it over. 

If he stopped moving, he’d think about Jack again.

Felix turned towards the woods and kept his head down. Get it over with. That was what he was going to do. Just get it over with and hope that he would survive the night. Or maybe not? Maybe he was better off dying out here anyways. He wasn’t entirely sure he was buying the concept of soulmates just yet, but it seemed like bullshit that he’d be expected to live happily without his. 

Felix shuddered and kept walking with his head down. There was a rune near his feet. He followed it thoughtlessly. If his mind ended up leading him off a cliff, he’d let it happen. He was sure he’d reach whatever fucking destination he needed to soon enough.

. . .

“You took him from me,” Frey growled from deep in his chest. Einar’s eyes went wider and his arm moved.

He barely felt Einar’s sword slide into his own body.

He just watched the Northman sink into the ground, watched him die. His own vision was creeping black at the edges. 

“Hel taki þik, _” Frey spat at his fallen brother. As the last light died in Einar’s eyes, Frey dropped to the ground and lied on his back. The falling ash looked almost like stars against the winter sky. All around him,_ Doire _burned and died screaming._

_Frey turned his head to look upon Senan one last time. Those lovely, dark eyes were sightless. Frey brought his hand to his lips, tasting the iron of Senan’s death. He felt little faith in any god as he died. All he believed in was the promise he’d made Senan in blood._

_Frey then looked back up to the sky as he reached out to touch the fire beside him._

_He would burn with Senan— no one would be able to tell them apart when their ashes mixed together._

. . .

Three days.

It had been three days.  
Felix died every night.

At this point, he felt more corpse than person. He was deep in the fjord now, and he wasn’t sure where he was. He hadn’t seen another human being for two days outside of his dreams. And every night he died. He watched Senan died. He woke up yearning for Jack more than anything he’d ever wanted. 

It was oddly soothing, though. It felt better than before. Because at least he now knew better than to hope. 

He’d followed rune after rune through the woods, gently touching the body of every tree that bore a mark. They made him feel better. Maybe it was because more and more of Frey was showing in him every day. 

Maybe it was because he _saw_ Frey.

At first, he was small glimpses between trees, the flash of blond hair, the brush of fur to the back of Felix’s neck, the murmur of a low voice in his ear. Old Norse, directions of sorts. Small words that were meant to spur him on when the exhaustion made his feet too heavy to lift. Felix was running on fumes, the espresso beans long gone. He was a zombie, trudging through the forest, heading North to a place he’d never known. 

And Frey was with him the whole time. 

Even when Felix woke, he would hear Frey whispering words of comfort, reassuring Felix that it wouldn’t be longer, that he’d reached the end soon, that this was going to work, and all of it in Norse. Felix’s stomach would swim from the implications, and he seemed to get further and further from normal the more he listened to the other man. But he would rather be a freak than alone in this. 

Ahead, Frey stood behind the tree bearing a rune. Felix could see his shoulders. He’d been following these glowing marks for the past three days.

Felix stopped in front of the tree that Frey was standing just behind. He’d never been this close to the other man. Frey was one of the most alarmingly vivid hallucinations Felix had ever experienced, because Frey wasn’t part of a hallucinated world. Frey walked in the waking world like he belonged there. That didn’t stop the anxiety, though. That didn’t stop the fact that shaking was just a constant state of being for him, and he would sometimes find himself murmuring Jack’s name to himself just to hear the sound. And then Frey would answer back with Senan’s. 

It was almost like they were at an understanding with one another. Frey wanted Senan, Felix wanted Jack, and neither of them could have what they wanted. Frey seemed to appreciate Felix, though. He seemed grateful for what was being done. It showed in the way that he wouldn’t let that same emptiness swallow Felix whole, and how he wouldn’t let Felix say Jack’s name one too many times. Frey was the best companion Felix could have asked for in this. Mostly because he was a great listener. At least, Felix thought he was listening as he weaved between the trees, just out of sight. What else could Frey be doing but listening? It wasn’t like Felix did much else but talk. 

He talked so fucking much the past three days. He talked about everything. About the agony he was experiencing with the dream every night, about how he’d been a shell of a person the past month, about how he couldn’t see much of a future ahead. He talked about missing Jack and Marzia and his friends. He talked about the guilt he felt for driving Marzia away, but being unable to hold it against her whatsoever. What else could she have done? Felix had made it obvious that he wasn’t going to tell her what was happening in his head, and if she’d seen the kiss, what other conclusion could she have made than Felix falling in love with someone else? With Jack? Which wasn’t wrong. He just hated that he had to lose her, even though it would’ve been selfish to ask her to stay. 

He talked about how he hated himself for leaving Mark in the dark _fucking again._ Mark was a damn good friend, and a stubborn one at that. Felix knew that he could only yank Mark’s emotions around so many more times with his absence before Mark got smart and left him behind for good. And Felix would deserve that, too. He didn’t want things to come to that. He wanted returning Frey to Senan to be the thing to fix all of this, fix him. If that didn’t happen, then Felix didn’t know what he would do. Probably put himself into a mental health facility. Grovel at Mark’s feet, beg for forgiveness. Frey had scoffed at the idea of begging, but Felix knew he couldn’t understand. Mark was a once in a lifetime kind of friend. Felix knew he’d never get lucky enough to meet another Mark again.

He’d never meet another Jack, either. He talked about Jack the most, even though Frey hated to hear it, because it hurt so much. Frey would always make more noise when Felix talked about Jack. He would walk harder. He’d push branches and drop snow on Felix’s head. But that would never stop him.

He’d tell Frey about all of Jack’s horribly made puns and the way Jack drawn so many people into his life with his laughter and positivity. Felix had always admired the way Jack could keep his chin up despite the odds, and he told Frey about that too. He told Frey about how he’d met Jack, the stupid competition that had turned out to bring so much more good for Felix than he’d ever thought it could. About the time Felix had been able to get all of his friends into one place for a Christmas thing, and Jack had gone up on his toes to kiss him, long before Felix had ever known he felt anything for him. It was almost fun to look back on his life with Jack and see the signs he’d never paid attention to. Only almost, because then it would start to hurt again, and Frey would walk a little louder, throw a branch in front, drop some snow on his head. Frey’s gentle words of encouragement would hardly ever be enough.

The fourth night, Felix settled down for sleeping the two or three hours he could manage with a sore throat. It was odd how he could lose his voice talking to absolutely no one.

. . .

“Hel taki þik, _” Frey spat at his fallen brother. As the last light died in Einar’s eyes, Frey dropped to the ground and lied on his back. The falling ash looked almost like stars against the winter sky. All around him,_ Doire _burned and died screaming._

_Frey turned his head to look upon Senan one last time. Those lovely, dark eyes were sightless. Frey brought his hand to his lips, tasting the iron of Senan’s death. He felt little faith in any god as he died. All he believed in was the promise he’d made Senan in blood._

_Frey then looked back up to the sky as he reached out to touch the fire beside him._

_He would burn with Senan— no one would be able to tell them apart when their ashes mixed together._

. . .

Felix woke to Frey’s voice in his ear. Everything ached. His entire body trembled. His throat ached with a need to say Jack’s name. None of this was new. Frey’s voice was.

 _”You’ll be better for it in the morning,”_ Frey said. Felix sat up, ignoring the protest of his body. Frey was at his feet. Flesh and blood, or what seemed like it. It was like looking into a mirror. Everything was the same, even the color of the beard. His fucking cheekbones were the same. He looked exactly like him.

“Am I really that hot?” Felix asked. And holy shit, way to be fucking vain. It was probably the first non-self-destructive he’d had in days, though. Frey looked confused, but he smiled. Felix had never really thought to appreciate his own smile before. It looked nice. “Why now?” Felix asked. 

_“You’re almost home,”_ Frey told him. Felix didn’t know what language he was speaking at this point, he just knew it wasn’t Swedish or English, and he could understand it perfectly. _“I wanted to speak to you before you found me.”_

“About what?”

Frey sat back with a shrug of his shoulders. _“Nothing in particular.”_  
Felix rolled his eyes and bunched his sleeping back up and around his shoulders. It was a miracle he hadn’t froze to death these past few days. “So, what? You could do this the whole time? You just waltzed around me and listened to me vomit my heart out when you could’ve done this at any time at all?”  
Frey shook his head. _“I can only do this because you are so close to my body.”_

Felix sobered. “Fuck.”

Frey sent him another one of those smiles, sadder now. _“I won’t be able to follow you once you find me. The journey back will be a new kind of monster, so I wanted to speak to you beforehand. I wanted to give you some advice. I wanted to tell you to not give up.”_

“It’s not like I’d come this far just to quit halfway through,” Felix said with a snort. “I might not have the same viking spirit as you, but I’m not a fucking bitch.”

 _“I meant with Jack,”_ Frey corrected patiently. _“Don’t give up on him.”_

Felix’s expression flattened unhappily. “You heard me. It’s hopeless. He wants to forget what I did. He doesn’t think I know my emotions from yours. Maybe I didn’t at one point, but I’m so far beyond that now. He thinks what I feel is fake.” Felix looked away. “You have no idea how shitty it feels. To be doubted like that. Feels like garbage. Worst fucking insult.”

 _“What he said wasn’t unfounded,”_ Frey said.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking shit thing to say,” Felix replied. “I would’ve rather he just say he didn’t believe in the reincarnation thing, or that the memories were just dreams. I wish he’d just said he didn’t believe me in general, not that he didn’t believe what I felt.”

 _“That does not mean he will never believe,”_ Frey reminded him. _“Same as your friend Mark.”_

Felix just made a face. “… Just to be sure. I’m not crazy, yeah?”

_“If you were, I doubt any answer I could give you would be reliable.”_

“Don’t be a dick about it,” Felix sighed. 

Frey seemed to pity him. _“I mean it,”_ he said. _“If you were to be losing your mind, I would not know any differently.”_

Felix bit his lip. “Who are you?”

 _“I am you,”_ Frey replied. _“And yet someone entirely different.”_

“That doesn’t make sense.”

 _“Well, I can’t very well tell you that I have absolutely no understanding as to what is happening to us,”_ Frey said with a chuckle. _“You’re looking for reassurance. I’d rather lie than make you feel any further out of depth.”_ Frey paused. _“I never wanted this for you. I am sorry. You deserve more.”_

Felix looked away, hugging the sleeping bag even tighter around his body. For some reason, Frey’s apology just made him feel worse. It wasn’t like this pain was Frey’s fault— if it was anyone’s, it was Senan’s, and then Jack’s by extent. But Felix couldn’t bring himself to blame them. Not aloud. “It isn’t your fault,” he murmured.

 _“That doesn’t mean I cannot hate what this is doing to you,”_ Frey replied. _“I’m in your head, Felix. You just haven’t heard me until now.”_

Felix narrowed his eyes. “You mean you’ve been here? For everything?”

 _“All of it,”_ Frey affirmed solemnly. _“I could reach out with small things. The runes you see are my messages to you. They were the most I could manage.”_

Felix felt his cheeks flush despite the cold. “So… the runes that appeared around Jack. Are you…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Like, I’ve felt myself to kinda be in love with Senan, even though I mostly just care about Jack, so does that… I mean, a-are you in love with Jack too? Just a little?”

Frey’s sad smile deepened. It made his eyes seem darker, the icy blue losing its shine. _“It’s complicated.”_

“You are, aren’t you?” Felix pressed. “You’re in love with him too.”

Frey sighed. _“… Across all lifetimes, the man we love remains the same,”_ he said. _“I cannot help but love who Senan became, in Jack. Just as you cannot help but love who Jack was. It’s confusing, and leaves me with guilt that I do not think I deserve to feel. I have been nothing but loyal to Senan, even in death. And yet… Whenever we see Jack, I just cannot help what I feel.”_

Felix nodded. “Jack’s pretty fucking special,” he agreed. “Not that Senan isn’t amazing, just…”

 _“My Senan is your Jack,”_ Frey replied. _“What makes him the most important to you is what I see in Senan. We love the same man, yet they are different, just as we are the same person, but separate.”_ Frey chuckled again at Felix’s groan. _“Hurts to consider, doesn’t it? Try not to dwell on it too much. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”_

“What happens when I get you back to Senan?” Felix asked.

Frey shook his head. _“I don’t know.”_

“I saw him in the ashes of _Doire_. That means he’s still around, right? At least, like, his ghost.”

 _“If that was him.”_ God, Felix hated that sad smile the more he saw it. _“It may have very well been your own mind. Even I am having trouble discerning what is real through your eyes. It is why I am so sorry for what you’re experiencing. It’s all so terrible.”_ Frey looked Felix over with a new coldness. _“… There is something you must know. When you find me, you will have to decide if you want to fight me.”_

Felix tensed. “What does that mean?” He was tired of fighting. 

_“You’re weak,”_ Frey told him. _“Out of my own fault. Your mind is not your own. Once you find me— once you touch me— you will lose your grip on your body.”_

“Well… That just doesn’t seem fair.”

Frey looked even more regretful. _“I am sorry.”_

Felix nodded. “So what do I do?”

 _“You fight me until your heart gives out,”_ Frey said. “Or you let me in. But you will not win. Even if I were to try to reign in my control, you are simply too weak. Your mind will give in on its own.”

“I’m gonna go with the second one, no matter how gay it sounds,” Felix sighed. “Is it even gay? More like masturbation, right?” He grinned sardonically. “This is stupid. I’m gonna lose my body, and here I am, making a bad joke.” He dropped the sleeping bag from his shoulders and let the cold hit him. “I’m guessing you've already got some sort of control, right? I’ve been seeing you in person. And I haven’t frozen to death.” He looked down at his shaking hands. “… Just take it all,” he said after a moment. “I’m tired. Try not to get me killed?”

Frey’s expression twisted into agony. _“I would never bring harm to you.”_

Felix’s throat closed up. “God, I wish you were real.”

Frey reached out and touched the top of Felix’s hand. His hands were even colder than the snow, but he felt so human that it made Felix’s head hurt. This was more than a hallucination. It had to be. “I think I’m okay with going crazy as long as you’re here to keep me company,” Felix mumbled, looking down to where they were touching. “No one will ever know what I feel better than you. If I have you, then who else could I need?”

 _“Jack,”_ Frey replied simply.

“God, don’t say his name,” Felix almost begged. “Gets harder every time.”

Frey still looked so sorry. _“Whatever you seek in me will never been what you need,”_ he told Felix. _“I’m dead, Felix. And I will not be here forever. The true companionship you need is in him.”_

“And if I never get him?” Felix asked.

 _“I cannot say for certain,”_ Frey replied. _“But I know you will never feel whole without him. Not after what you have seen.”_

Felix let out a shaky breath that froze between them. “I want him back,” he said.

 _“I know you do,”_ Frey said. _“I do too.”_

Felix nodded. “I should get moving, huh?”

_“I will be with you.”_

Felix nodded again and tried not to put a time limit on Frey as he packed the few things he had and set out into the snow. At least Frey could now walk beside him instead of between the trees.

. . .

He followed the runes to a spot of earth that looked just like everywhere else. Frey was silent as he pointed to the ground in front of a weathered tree that looked three days from dead. Felix was pretty sure Frey had made him buy this fucking shovel. His gloves were thick, and the ground beneath the snow was surprisingly soft. He dug for what felt like hours with Frey’s presence of his back. It felt oddly enough like he was digging his own grave. A blurry countless feet down, Felix’s shovel struck something that rang out like a bell. He dropped to his knees, tore the gloves from his fingers, and brushed aside the rest of the dirt, intending on uncovering whatever he’d hit. 

The moment his fingertips brushed metal, it was over.

. . .

He woke up at the outskirts of Balestrand with now memory as to how he got there and how he was standing in the first place. He was starving. He was beyond exhausted. He was skin and bones and he couldn’t feel his fingers.

Felix looked down to where he was clutching an ancient, rusted sword in his bare hands. Half of the blade was gone, broken off at the end. It was dull and twisted with age. It was covered in dirt. 

It was his.

He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. It was his sword. And here he was, standing on the outskirts of Balestrand, having lost at least three days, and holding his sword. 

“You weren’t kidding, Frey,” he said to the empty air. “You really did take over.” Felix wrapped his half-frozen fingers around the hilt of the broken sword and found himself smiling. He now understood what Frey had meant in Felix finding him. Frey’s bones were long gone, decayed, but this sword had lasted in the dirt. This was all that was left.

“Let’s get you back to Senan,” he said to the sword. He couldn’t sleep now. He had to look like a monster from spending so long in the woods. But Felix knew he was so close to bringing those men peace. His body could wait just a little longer— they needed him. 

. . .

Felix drank three cups off coffee on the flight back to Ireland to deny himself sleep and felt the tug of the sword beneath the plane in the cargo hold. He avoided the stares of all the other passengers, knowing he was lucky he hadn’t been denied entrance onto the plane. People probably thought him some sort of ethnic purist. He kept a frown on his face to discourage anyone from talking to him. People were plenty agreeable no matter what you looked like if you had enough money, and the sword had passed customs easily enough, so long as it was packed away. 

When the plane landed and he collected the sword, he felt more rejuvenated with a touch of the hilt than he had from all of the coffee he’d drank. Felix almost wished he could get a picture of how he looked— unkempt beard, frazzled hair, dirty clothes, and a broken sword. At least he was practically unrecognizable. He wouldn’t want Wall Street Journal getting a snapshot of how he looked now. 

Felix walked confidently from the airport, intent on flagging down a cab and getting back to Castlepollard, but stumbled when he saw a familiar mess of red hair next to an even worse twist of green. He slowed his steps to a halt and stood outside the Dublin airport, for the first time, unsure of what to do. There were no runes to give him direction, and no Frey to tell him what to do. He’d have to face his friends alone. 

They didn’t look angry. They hadn’t even seen him yet, though Felix was still pretty sure no one would be able to recognize him like this. He’d caught a few glimpses in passing windows— he looked like more like a vagabond than Felix. He looked like something out of a video game. His clothes were practically a different color from the way they’d been stripped by the wind and snow. He’d walked for four days, then lost what was probably another four, so that meant his hair had grown out more than he usually let it. And his beard hadn’t been groomed in probably over a week. Felix looked and felt like a different person, and he didn’t blame his friends for the way their eyes swept pass him, unfamiliar and empty. 

He approached them anyways. Both of their eyes fell on him again, and startled recognition bloomed over their faces. Then anger. Jack looked particularly pissed. He pushed off the car he was leaning against and stomped towards Felix with a downturned twist of his mouth. But then immediately faltered when he saw the broken sword in Felix’s hand. “The fuck is that?” Jack demanded. “Where the fuck have ye’ been? What the fuck is that, Felix?”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Mark asked him in a much steadier tone than Jack’s.

Felix twisted the sword in an easy arch in his grip, momentarily surprised by a skill he’d never had before. “Jack, Mark,” he said. “Meet Frey.” He held out the sword like he was brandishing a candle or a photo of a person. Jack looked even angrier. 

“What the fuck does that even fuckin’ mean?” Jack snapped. 

“Last time I tried to explain something like this to you, you didn’t believe me,” Felix replied, though he carefully kept all anger from his voice. God, English felt weird. 

“But you’ll tell me, right?” Mark asked. He sounded hopeful.

“Of course,” Felix replied. 

Jack threw his hands into the air, well beyond furious. “Fuck ye’ both,” he snarled. He stormed back to the car and slid into the passenger seat, crossing his arms over his chest after slamming the door. Felix watched him with longing. Even in his anger, Jack was fucking beautiful. He’d missed looking at him, missed the color of his eyes. He’d missed his voice. Felix loved the sound of it, even when Jack was yelling at him. But god, did he wish Jack wasn’t so angry. 

Mark still leaned against the car, just watching Felix for a long moment. Then he reached out and pulled Felix into a crushing hug, squeezing Felix as tightly as he could. It felt a little weird, like there was an extra layer of skin between Felix and everything else in the world. But hugging Mark was also the best thing he’d felt in ages, so he eagerly wrapped his free arm around Mark’s waist and pressed his face into Mark’s neck. The warmth of another real person, a familiar one that he didn’t want to scare away, was addicting. 

“I missed you, Felix,” Mark said quietly. 

“I think I missed you too.”

“Only think?” Mark scoffed after pulling back to half-arms length, his hands still on Felix’s arms. Felix could tell he was playing around. “I’m touched.”

“It’s been a weird past few days,” Felix said apologetically. Mark pulled away, brow knit together with concern. 

“A few days?” he repeated. “Felix, it’s been nearly three weeks.”

Felix blinked owlishly at him. “Oh.” That didn’t seem right.

“Yeah, oh,” Mark huffed. “We had a missing person’s report and everything. The only reason the police aren’t the ones meeting you here is because Marzia can still see all the shit you buy with your card. We saw the plane tickets. We came to pick you up or intercept you or something. But Felix, you’ve been missing for ages.” He visibly hesitated. “I’m gonna judge by the look on your face that it wasn’t entirely on purpose.”

“I left,” Felix said. “But I didn't mean to be away for so long.”

“How does something like that happen?”

Felix pursed his lips. “Frey needed to get me out of the fjord,” he said, deciding the bare minimum was enough. He didn't want Mark to have to worry about Felix being genuinely possessed on top of everything else. “I'm okay now,” he said. “I'm back.” He was positive about that. He’d felt like he was in a daze since coming back to himself, But again, the full truth wasn’t going to help anyone. “Thank you for being here.”

“Like I could be anywhere else,” Mark scoffed. “Been going out of my mind, Felix. Do me a favor? Never do this again, if you can help it.”

“If I can help it,” Felix echoed. 

“Get in the car.” Mark finally go of Felix. “I’ll get you where you need to be. And, uh, try to go easy on Jack. He’s been worse off then me.”

. . .

When Jack silently handed Felix his phone, Felix took a long moment to even remember what the device in his hand was called. The daze was like a weight pulling at the edges of his brain, like a tired, listless feeling, and his thoughts moved slowly. The occasional memory of Senan peaked every time Jack caught Felix’s eye in the rearview mirror. Jack was ignoring him, though, and Senan had never been one for spiteful actions. It was easy to make the disconnection.

It was easy to see Jack was alive.

“What’s this for?” Felix asked, waving the phone in the air. 

“Well, it’s yours,” Mark said after he fruitlessly waited for Jack to say something. “You’ve been gone for weeks. There’s gotta be a couple people you need to call, right?”

Felix could really only think one person. “You said Marzia was the one to tell you where I would be?”

“She did.”

Felix looked at the phone. Then he turned it over. He’d been holding it upside down. He lit up the screen, then frowned when he realized he didn’t remember his own password. Odd. He could see numbers floating lazily around in his head, but there was no order to them. Felix tried a couple different combinations and his frown tensed every time he got it wrong. “Uhm…”

Jack let out an aggravated huff, before turning in his seat and snatching the phone from Felix. He unlocked it easily and handed it back. “Ye’ fuckin’ nut,” Jack grumbled. Still, Felix was grateful. He found Marzia’s contact and grimaced at the heart next to her name. He was an asshole. She deserved far better. She deserved to never have to hear from him again, deserved to never even pay him another thought. But Felix needed to say his piece. So he called the number and wasn’t at all surprised when she sent him straight to voicemail after half a ring. 

“Marzia,” he began. Mark and Jack both glanced warily to one another at the sound of her name. “There’s nothing I can say to fix what I’ve done.” Wasn’t that the fucking truth. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he murmured. “I should’ve trusted you. I shouldn’t have pretended everything was okay, and god, I should’ve been a better boyfriend. But I didn’t want to hurt you. I was scared of what the truth was and I was scared of how you’d react to me being…” In love with Jack. He couldn’t say it to her. “I wanted to keep you from being hurt. But in the end, all I did was end up hurting you way worse than me telling you the truth ever could have.”

He paused, looking out the window at all of the gloomy green. “I’m not going to try and explain to you why I did what I’ve done. And I’m not going to try and get you back. I’ve known you for years, Marzia, I know that you hate when I get all clingy like that.” He laughed a little and it hurt. “Maybe If I thought I could get better, I’d say something about finding you again, but I know that I won’t be coming out of this the same as I was. You’re gonna be better off without me.”

He met Jack’s eyes in that moment, and saw the most aching sympathy he’d ever seen in another person. Felix smiled shakily to him, happy it wasn’t pity. “Maybe I’ll see you again someday, Marzia,” he said. “But I’m not about to force my shitty head and shitty problems onto you. You can be mad at me and you can tell everyone anything you want about me, I’ll deserve all of it. Just do me a favor and don’t let what I’ve done drag you down.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything I can to fix what I’ve done to your life. Just let me know, okay? Literally anything. I’m sorry.”

He hung up without saying he loved her. It seemed like it would be too cruel of a thing to say. Felix put the phone beside him, uncomfortable with the cold weight in his hand. It really didn’t feel normal to him anymore.

“You gonna be okay?” Mark asked him. 

“Just get me home,” Felix said, unable to care about his slip up. It might as well be the truth. It wasn’t like he belonged anywhere else.

. . .

Walking through the hills towards the ruins of _Doire_ felt different than it had before. The haze grew stronger the closer he got. His shoes were total shit, he could feel the water seeping through and soaking his toes. He almost wished he was wearing the leather Frey had always worn. At least them he wouldn’t have to deal with soggy socks. God, he felt like he was walking in a fog. The sword tucked into the back of his pants was heavy. Mark was attached to his side, waiting for Felix to just drop again. 

He led them into town, and felt his stomach drop.

Everything was different. There were no houses, not even the burnt skeletons of them. There were a few rocks piled like walls, remnants of ruined homes that were younger than _Doire_. None of the colors were hung above his head and the only fire pit he could see was a couple of ruined, old stones where the center of town used to be. He stood at the edge of it, looking into a mess of old coal. This was probably the only fire that had actually been lit at the festival. He wondered if he’d been dancing with ghosts that night, singing to no one. God, he must have made a fool of himself. 

He looked beyond what little ruins surrounded them to the trees. There was a whisper in his ear. Felix glanced over his shoulder and saw Mark a few too many feet away to have been the one to say anything. 

Frey, then.

“If I start talking to no one,” Felix said, addressing Jack and Mark. “Do me a favor and just let me do it, okay?”

“This is fucking stupid,” Jack grumbled. 

“Do what you have to do,” Mark said.

Felix moved towards the woods without acknowledging either of them. Frey’s whisper came again, a simple word. Felix walked past the first tree just as it lit up with a rune. He barely paid it any mind and kept heading deeper into the woods. He hadn’t been in here as Felix before, but he remembered enough. The trees were different from those Frey had seen, but it was the same spirit. 

Felix reached out and felt the trunk of one of the trees. He stopped walking for a moment. He heard more than a whisper. Felix looked over his shoulder, but Frey still wasn’t there, so he kept moving. A rune lit up just ahead to his left. _Thurisaz._ He’d never seen it before, but it was one of the most comforting he’d ever come across. Felix reached the tree and brushed his fingers across the light. He heard Mark suck in a breath behind him. He looked back at the two and saw _Sowilu_ back above Jack’s head. They were staring at the rune. 

“What the fuck is that?” Mark asked, pointing to the rune.

“You guys can see it?” Felix asked. He was a little surprised, but about fucking time. He'd be able to avoid the “you’re” crazy accusations from them after this. He got his answer when Jack and Mark just gaped at him in shark. “ _Thurisaz_ ,” he told them. “It stands for a gateway, and represents something needing to be done. It represents having a purpose, a goal that goes beyond you and into you.” He then pointed to Jack. “Above your head is _Sowilu._ The rune of the sun. Wholeness and vitality.” He smirked a little. “Don’t get cocky.”

Jack felt at his forehead and Mark just stared at the shining rune above Jack. “How long has that been there?” Jack asked. He sounded shaken.

“I first saw it at that dinner,” Felix told him. “When my hand cut itself.” He subconsciously tightened that hand. “It was beautiful,” he breathed, looking at Jack rather than the rune. “To see it above you like that. You were surrounded by so many others, like a halo. It was incredible.” 

Jack almost looked pale.

“We should keep going,” Felix said, a little disappointed. “You’ll see more of these,” he said, gesturing to _Thurisaz_ on the tree. “They lead me places. Give me clues.” He shrugged. “Like a video game tutorial. They've gotten me through a lot of shit.” He pat the tree. “Don’t disrespect the runes. They’ve literally saved my life.” He would’ve frozen to death out in the fjord if it weren’t for them. 

“You’re just gonna follow these magic fuckin’ glow stick shapes into the fuckin’ woods?” Jack demanded. “Is that what ye’ve been doing? You’re gonna get yerself killed like this, Fe’!”

“Like you’d care,” something outside of Felix said before he could stop it. 

Jack reared back like he’d been slapped. 

Felix wanted to apologize, but found that the words were barely his. He couldn’t very well apologize for something he wasn’t even sure he’d said. He turned and headed deeper into the forest, following the rune that repeated itself over and over, a lit up path leading him to god-knew-where. Then there was a flash of blond in his peripherals, and Felix smiled. “About time to you showed up,” he said to the man that wasn’t there yet. “Got a free ride back in _Sognefjord_. Most people would’ve bought me dinner first.”

“Who’re you talking to?” Mark asked. 

Felix ignored him, glancing around for the next rune. He walked easily towards it when it lit up. “If you wanna clue me in on where the hell I’m going, I’d really appreciate it,” he continued. Frey was easy to talk to. Basically a glorified and overcomplicated conversation with himself. “Mark and Jack can actually see these runes, which is crazy. Is crazy contagious? Cause out of everything I’ve been through, them seeing this is the craziest fucking thing.”

“Felix, what’s happening?” Jack demanded. 

“It’s not like I’ve got a map to this place,” Felix sighed. “Not like this place would show up as any importance. Why did you and Senan like so much about it anyways?” There were more runes lighting up in front of him, all meaning the same thing, but more congested. The forest was becoming brighter. “You can’t just leave me in the dark like this. I’m not a viking, I’m definitely not as brave as you.”

_“You are far more courageous than many men I’ve known.”_

There was a warm hand on Felix’s shoulder. He turned from the marked path to smile widely at Frey behind him. “I could kiss you,” he said.

 _“That would be arrogant,”_ Frey replied easily.

“Holy shit,” Mark breathed.

“Holy shit!” Jack shouted. “That’s fucking _you!_ What the fuck?”

“Is that Frey?” Mark asked. He was standing just behind— Felix could see him over the fur that was slung over Frey’s shoulders. “Is this Frey?”

_“Tell your friends I mean them no harm.”_

“What the fuck do ye’ mean no harm?” Jack repeated with a snarl. Frey whirled around, visibly shocked, and only looked even more stunned when his eyes fell upon Jack— upon _Seán._ The counterpart to Frey’s other half. Though Frey had been with Felix since this whole shitfest began, Felix was pretty sure Frey had never actually _seen_ Seán. If he had, he would’ve spent a lot more time staring. Felix wondered what it was like for Frey to see Seán. To see the man he loved in such a familiar, but different body. In a different lifetime. The casual clothes and green hair had to be a blow to Frey’s perception. But god, the relief he had to feel at seeing Senan’s face in another’s had to be stronger.

 _“Senan,”_ Frey breathed, his voice soft and reverent. _“Or not. Something close.”_ Frey reached out, his fingertips just grazing the curve of Seán’s cheek. Seán flinched away, though, and broke the spell. _“You must be confused,”_ Frey said. _“I can assure you that I am as well.”_

“I’m not Senan,” Jack said. He looked angry. “I’m not that fucking man! Stop messing with Felix’s head!”

_“What Felix feels for Senan is nothing compared to what he feels for you, regardless of the occasional misgiven name.”_

“This is fucking gibberish and I’m really out of the loop,” Mark blurted out. “You can understand him?”

“You can’t?!” Jack cried out. God, he sounded frantic now. Felix felt sorry for him, much like he had for Mark. Felix had been eased into this insanity. His friends were being dropped head first into the boiling water with no time to adjust. But he couldn’t do anything for them. He left Mark and Jack to their fervent conversation and met Frey’s eyes. Blue meeting identical blue was the most dissociative moment Felix had felt in ages. But he wasn’t disturbed. Felix nodded to Frey, then turned to follow the runes again. His friends would be able to move past this soon enough. He needed to finish this. 

Felix moved even deeper into the woods, focusing on the path ahead and not on the voices he was leaving behind. Frey walked just a step behind him, falling in time. The runes grew more and more dense the further he went in. Frey reached out to every tree that was near enough to touch. Felix wondered if any of these trees were the same as the ones he’d known. A gentle hum started to fill Felix’s ears, like a song. Frey’s expression lit up. He heard it too. _”Senan never did like to sing. I was happiest when he chose to regardless.”_

Felix moved ahead with more purpose. He could see the runes glowing so brightly ahead that they were like a sun of their own. The humming grew louder in his ear, filling him with urgency. He felt the voice calling to him, drawing him in with gentle reassurance that everything would be okay once he came home, everything would be safe, everything would stop hurting. The voice promised relief, and everything bled away into nothing at the prospect of that. He pushed past the trees, leaving everyone behind. The murmur grew louder, a beautiful presence in his mind. The runes faded and surged in their brightness with the hum. Felix shut his eyes and let the glow shine through his eyelids, letting the voice lead him. 

It felt good. To let go and trust someone else with his own sense of mind intact. Not like how Frey had took over in Norway, not the way he’d felt after the memories. Like this, he could let himself be led, yet be the one to put one foot in front of the other. He was being led, but it was his choice, and it felt a little bit like peace. 

He opened his eyes when darkness pervaded. 

He was standing in a clearing, surrounded by trees that formed a near-perfect circle. _Thurisaz_ shone on every single trunk. At the end of the circle of trees was a circle of mushrooms, standing strong despite the frigid cold. The rune _Sowilu_ glowed from the ground, and Felix felt like he couldn’t breathe. He pulled the sword from his back with slow, purposeful movements. His fingers tightened on the hilt and he looked over the rusted blade with an intense feeling he couldn’t describe.

Once he did this— whatever he had to do— that would be the end of it. No more nightmares, no more death, no more waking with his breath taken from him and burning in his limbs. No more anxiety and endless trembling. No more denying himself sleep to avoid the memories and no more pain, or longing, or yearning for someone who was dead for years. No more guilt over seeing a ghost in his best friend. 

No more Frey, either. No more of the runes lighting his path and leading him in the right direction and no more clear advice or help. He wouldn’t have a gentle voice telling him everything would be okay. He wouldn’t have that person in his head who understood him like no one else. He’d be alone in his thoughts. A month ago, the idea of having someone else inside his head would’ve disturbed him, but now he couldn’t imagine being without it. The emptiness would be cold. He didn’t want to imagine the horrible things he’d say to himself to fill the gap Frey would leave behind. 

He would lose Senan and Frey. He’d lose that undying and uncomplicated love that they shared. He’d already lost Marzia to this, and he would probably lose Jack in the end of it. Maybe Mark would stick around, but Mark didn’t live in England. What was Felix going to do after this? With an empty head and no one at his side? He’d probably go back to making videos, but hell, what could he do about the way his thoughts echoed endlessly and unnoticed? 

For a second, he wondered if people who had voices in their head feared being cured for this very reason. If they were afraid of being alone.

Felix’s grip on the sword was trembling. “I’m me, right?” he asked the cold air in front of him. “Once this is over, I’m going to be me. Even without them, I…” That wouldn’t be the case. This had changed him, and not for the better. He was never going to be the same, no matter how he tried to deal with it all. He couldn’t go to a doctor. He couldn’t get medication. He couldn’t go to a hospital. Those things were all to help people cope and heal around things that were no longer real. How the hell was a doctor going to fix him when the impossible was real?

Felix was ruined. And putting this sword wherever it needed to be wasn’t going to fix him. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Felix told himself almost cruelly. He needed to forget about himself. “You’re not doing this for you. You’re doing this for them.” He was never going to be okay again. He needed to stop telling himself this would fix anything at all. He’d only end up disappointed, worse-for-wear. Hopeless. 

But he could change that for Frey. So he strode towards the circle of mushrooms, lifted the sword above his shoulders, and drove it into the frozen ground.

The world exploded into ethereal light, shining beyond his eyes and inside his body. He was momentarily blinded, but he didn’t shield his eyes. When the light faded into something bearable, Felix wasn’t surprised to see Senan standing in front of him. But unlike the first time, there was no sorrow on Senan’s face, no pain. He looked grateful. He looked overjoyed. He looked absolutely beautiful in his relief and Felix’s heart swelled at the sight.

But Senan was also looking beyond him.

He felt Senan _step through him_ before he actually saw it. The sudden cold of being touched by something dead tore away the wonderful feeling the light had brought. The shaking got worse. He turned just in time to see Senan fall into Frey’s arms before the light grew again. 

But this time, it wasn’t pleasant. It hurt. It felt like the skin was being torn from his body, and the humming that hadn’t really stopped turned into a horribly high pitched scream, like nails on chalkboard or machinery failing. Felix couldn’t breathe, which was hardly a shock, but the way his ribs throbbed was new. The scar on his torso screamed. Felix couldn’t chose between trying to plug his ears and clutching his abdomen. The light grew even brighter, the pitch grew louder, and Felix didn’t know how to shut it out, so he just screamed. He screamed as loud as he could to try and drown out the sound. 

Felix knew what this was. It was death, threefold. Senan, Frey’s, and his own. He was losing them; they were being torn from his mind, and his body didn’t want to let the go, because his body knew this could only twist him into something irreparable. And maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was histrionic, but Felix could feel the sword sliding through his abdomen, and then his heart, and then something else. For a moment, he could feel a horrible pain in his throat, and another in his head. Was that his own death, far away in the future? Did it even matter? Beyond the screaming, he couldn’t think of why he should care how he was going to die. If it happened now, it wouldn’t be a moment too soon.

The light faded. The noise stopped. He wasn’t in the forest anymore— he was propped up against a rock, facing a fire in the middle of the ruins of that old town. He heard Mark and Jack off to his left, whispering to one another. He didn’t really care. His ears were still ringing and the fire was a mesmerizing trigger for the memories of burning alive. Felix could probably lean in and throw himself into the fire before Mark and Jack would be able to stop him. 

Fuck, Felix, _stop._

Felix made a noise of pain, making sure it was loud enough to let the other two know he was awake. He didn’t want to die. _He didn’t want to fucking die._ It was just the death rattle of his memories, telling him he was supposed to be dead after experiencing it however many fucking times. 

The sound Felix made had Jack scrambling to his side, pitching into Felix’s field of vision with frantic urgency. Felix was momentarily stunned. Not because of the similarities that were now officially obvious, but because Jack was touching him everywhere and looking at him with something a lot more revealing than concern. He’d seen that look before on another face. He didn’t know what to do.

“Felix, hey,” Jack said, his hand coming up to Felix’s neck. “You’re hearing me, yeah?” Had Jack been talking? “I know ye’ can’t be feelin’ any good, but I need ye’ ta’ tell me everything’s okay, at least physically. Please?”

“I’m fine,” Felix rasped. “Not really, though.” He tore his eyes from Jack and looked back to the fire. There was a quiet sound from Mark, and Felix could still see that green in the corner of his eyes. But he didn’t want to acknowledge them. It suddenly dawned on him that he needed to mourn. He’d lost a friend, or something worse. That second soul was gone from his head, the one he hadn’t really noticed until its absence. Frey would never guide him again. He was gone.

He started to cry. Felix angrily wiped at the few tears gathering in his eyes, but missed one. It slid down to his chin and he wrung his shaking fingers together. He could feel the eyes on him. 

“Tell me about him,” Jack said. Felix turned to him with a furrowed brow, ready to defend Frey and Senan, because Jack had made it obvious he didn’t like either of them. He was too tired, though, so he settled his face into an expression of frustration. Surely Jack wouldn’t give him shit— not now. “Tell me about Senan,” Jack pressed, looking only a little apologetic. “I, I realize that I don’t know much about him. But when you spoke to Frey, I—” Jack cut himself off. “I just realized that I wasn’t very nice beforehand about him. And I was even worse to you. Inadvertently. I, I want to know Senan as well as you know Frey. Or as well as I can.”

Felix sighed and wiped again at his eyes. “I could go on for hours,” he began with a shake of his head. “He, he was so amazing, Jack, you would’ve been proud. He was, like, this witch of the town, right? And half of the people are scared of him, but he never, ever let it get to him. I mean, maybe he did, a little, but he never let himself even consider changing who he was to become what they wanted. And he didn’t, like, live up to their standards to try and make them life him, he just lived his life and made himself happy.

“And he was such a complex sort of guy. He always, always wanted Frey to feel like he had a home, you know? He never wanted Frey to leave, but I always got this feeling that he’d let Frey go if he needed to, even though Frey would never fucking leave Senan. And it was so cool to see Frey fall so in love with Senan and the culture around him and how it was so different from what he was used to. I loved seeing him slowly identify more and more with Senan’s world than his own, even with all of the gods and shit.

“And I loved how Senan just supported him,” Felix sighed, almost reminiscing. “He talked Frey through so much. He was more than a lover— he was a friend and a confident and an advisor. He was one of the best things that ever could have happened to Frey and I’m so happy to have gotten to know him through this.”

Jack stayed quiet for a little longer. “… And me?” he asked. “Am I like him?”

“Better,” Felix replied without hesitation. He felt himself starting to smile, and directed it to Jack. “Because you’re here. You’re not in my head and you’re more than a memory. You’ve got all of those same amazing qualities that Senan had, and then some. You’re way funnier than he is and you’re also a lot smarter. Also, I’m Felix, not Frey.” He looked back up at the sky. The loss stung, but he could talk himself through it so long as Jack was listening.

“I know I loved Senan, because how could I not?” He thought aloud. “It was instinctual because it wasn’t really me. I didn’t actually know him, I didn’t actually feel what was being felt. I was just remembering it, and so I loved him. Maybe I loved his memory more than anything. But when it comes to you, I’m not loving the memory. I, I’m remembering you more than anything else. I know I’ve fucked up the name, but it’s not like Senan could fucking fuck around with me on twitter and start lame shit. And Senan definitely can’t dick around my house or make me shitty dinner or call me the asshole that I am.

“I know you said that you think what I feel for you isn’t legitimate or whatever the fuck you actually said, and yeah, that fucking hurt, dude, but I think I get it.” He sighed and looked up at the stars again. They were all familiar. “Getting called by someone else’s name can be hard when it’s someone you feel like should know who you are. And I know I was a dick to think that it didn’t matter that I called you Senan. And I know that I was wrong in just brushing past it all and I was wrong to call you Senan in the first place, because you’re so much more than him.”

Felix found himself smiling wider as he looked up above. He felt Mark shift next to him, but nothing from Jack. He realized that he was pouring his heart out to these two guys, laying his chest cavity open for them to see. He wasn’t nervous about what they would learn. If anything, he was relieved. He couldn’t think of anyone better to expose all of this to. No one he had come to trust more.

“Maybe you think that I don’t know what’s up from down,” Felix said. “Maybe you think I’m too crazy to know my own thoughts, or that I’m being manipulated by Frey, but I can promise you that I’m not. There’s not a lot of things I’m sure about when it comes to these past months, but one think I know for absolute certain is that I love you. Like, I’m in love with you, in the most unfair way possible, especially to you.” He shook his head. “It’s just ridiculous that you can’t believe me when I say that, even though I get why. But it’s still ridiculous. Because even when I saw Senan, all I looked for was you. All I could do was draw comparisons, find the ways he was similar, find you in him, because being in love with him didn’t make sense unless I made him into you.” 

He looked back to Jack. The other man looked like his heart had been stripped raw. He looked just as fucked up as Felix felt, and Felix wanted to apologize. Then Jack lifted his hands and cupped Felix’s face in his palms, pulling him in for a harsh crash of their lips. 

For a moment, everything went completely still. Felix didn’t even dare to breathe. He kept his eyes open. He watched Jack, unbothered by how close they were. He could see the way Jack’s lashes trembled and the turn of his brow. The kiss seemed to last forever, and Felix didn’t feel butterflies or fireworks or anything like that. He felt calm. Safe. He felt like things suddenly made sense again.

Jack pulled away, full of nerves as he waited for Felix to say something. Felix was speechless, though, and could only smile blindingly bright. He leaned into Jack this time and rested their foreheads together, ignoring Jack’s flinch. Felix breathed in deep and let his eyes fall shut this time before tilting his head and pressing in for another kiss. Jack’s hands on his face felt burning hot. He laid his own hands over them, keeping them on his face. Curling his fingers around Jack’s palms and holding his hands.

"Do you have any idea," Jack began shakily. "How fuckin' hard it was to listen to ye' tell me ye' loved me and know that I couldn't let ye' trust yerself? Frey was making your mind a maze, I, I couldn't know if what you felt was real. But god, Felix, _god._ I wanted what you felt t' be real more than anything. It tore me apart to tell ye' no. Especially as ye' walked away. So broken. So fucked up." Jack shook his head, his expression twisting into near-anguish. "I loved ye'. How couldn't ye' see it? It was as obvious as the sun. I loved ye' and I couldn't take advantage of you." He whimpered from deep in the back of his throat. "I just wish I'd trusted ye'. Wish I could've given in. God knows we'd be better off."

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Felix breathed between their lips, unable to keep that dumb smile from his face. Jack loved him. Jack had always fucking loved him. How had he missed that?

“I’d say the same to you, except I think ye’ already know better than me.”

Felix laughed, light and happy for the first time in ages. The fire burned in front of them, warming his feet. He pulled back just enough to give Jack space to breathe, and saw Mark with his fists in the air like he was celebrating. “Could be worse,” Felix told Jack, stroking Jack’s knuckles with his thumbs. “Could be crazy.”

“Verdict’s still out on that one,” Jack snorted. “Tryin’ tell me ye’ ain’t crazy after a fucking ghost reunited with a second ghost in the middle of the woods? The argument ain’t in yer favor, Fe’.”

“Let’s just compromise and say I’m crazy for you,” Felix said, drawing Jack in for another kiss and smiling against his lips. 

Above their heads, _Sowilu_ began to glow.


End file.
